Remembrance and Redemption
by Pokemon67
Summary: Max Lightwood is given a chance to return to life and he jumps at the chance. But in order complete the mission the Angels have for him, he is going to need the help of his killer. Meanwhile, Clary is on the verge of getting the memories she lost when Magnus blocked her Sight. Except there might be more than fairy wings and her mother's scars she forgot about.
1. A Mission From Heaven

**Me: Please grant me a round of applause because not only did I write this and more in less than a day, but this is an idea that I have had and this is me following through with it (this never happens- I seem to never be able to write the ideas I plan out). Truly an amazing work is being preformed here.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! I promise!**

_Pokemon67 is sorry for any grammatical errors you may come across. _

**Prologue**

It was cold in Hell.

The blackness in front of him was never ending, never changing. This was his eternity. Eternally cold, empty, and lonely. Never would there be anything else, or anyone else. Forever and always it would be him and this black cavern. The only thing echoing in it would be his memories of a life that could have been. A life he could have had had he made different choices.

And then, all of a sudden, he was rising upward.

Up, faster and faster like a ballon. The coldness of the cavern stabbed at him as he rose, causing a pressure in his head. He gasped for breath, unable to catch it as he went faster and faster. Within in the blink of an eye, he suddenly could see. Blurry, far away images in from of him. _Was that light? Wait, the cold… Water?_

He didn't stop rising until he came bursting out of a lake. He tumbled onto the sand, coughing up the water that had gotten into his lungs. As he glanced behind him, he recognized the lake and began couching more vigorously. _Lake Lyn._

His heart pounded faster than normal. Partly from confusion and partly, he suspected, because he had forgotten the sensation of a beating heart. He got to his knees slowly, his head spinning. It should be impossible that the lake was Lake Lyn, but if it was he was in terrible trouble. Just as he was about to stick his fingers down his throat so as to get rid of the rest of the water he swallowed, a voice spoke from behind him.

''Don't worry about the water,'' the voice said. ''The Angels gave us protection against it.''

His ears pricked at the voice. It sounded familiar. Not wanting to give the person the satisfaction of knowing how unsettled he was, he turned slowly, doing his best to give an expression of mild amusement.

His mental picture of the person was off only slightly, no doubt due to not having seen the person in so long. It was a boy of a small, light build. His brown hair was wet and stuck to his face and his glasses, which were askew on his nose. Also they were covered with water spots. The boy appeared younger than he was actually, which was ten. Or maybe eleven now.

Max Lightwood cocked his head to the side, smiling down with all the childish glee of someone who knows they have the best of someone else. A fitting glance for a murder victim to have for their murderer. ''Hello.''

''Hello.''

''The Angels asked a favor of me,'' Max went on, his characteristic seriousness back. He still looked annoyingly smug. ''I asked for help and they let me take you.''

''Why?''

''Because this is your chance for the thing you want most. You are the only one in all of the afterlife who will be willing to do whatever it takes to get it. And this is your chance.''

A laugh escaped him. ''I am not doing anything for anyone, especially not the Angels. There is nothing they can give me.''

Max deliberated. ''The Angels aren't giving you it actually. Just the chance for you to get it yourself.''

''Something I'll do anything for? And here I thought they didn't like my idea of world domination.''

''It's not that.''

''Then what? What do you and the Angels think I want more than anything? That I will do anything for?''

Max looked surprised. He answered very plainly and simply. ''Redemption.''

…..

**Chapter 1**

It was a beautiful day in Idris. The sun shone, the birds sang- perfect on a mission for Heaven weather.

''What's the job?'' Jonathon asked as they trudged away from the lake, in the direction of the woods. He tugged uncomfortably at his wet clothes. White shirt and dress pants. Same clothes he had died in. Morbid for Angels, he thought. But as least they were nice enough to get rid of the nasty blood stains and big hole.

''Just retrieving a Heavenly Item,'' Max answered carelessly. He swung his arms back and forth, clearly delighting in the warm daylight. While the Angels had recycled with Jonathon's clothes, they has seen fit to outfit Max in a simple black long sleeved shirt and black pants, the standard clothes a Shadowhunter would wear under their gear.

''What kind of item?''

''Someone's sword.'' Max grabbed a flower and began picking at the petals, humming to himself.

Jonathon sighed in a annoyance. ''Oh, God, stop.'' he exclaimed. ''Don't do that.''

''Do what?''

''Don't be one of those _'I'm so happy to be alive_' types. It's annoying.''

''Excuse me,'' Max huffed. ''Sorry for being happy I'm not _dead_.''

''Apology accepted.'' Jonathan nodded gracefully. ''Why are we not dead?''

Max rolled his eyes, tossing his flower aside. ''Because I volunteered for this mission and asked to bring you with me.''

''Why?''

''Think of me as your…'' Max gestured, trying to think of a phrasing. ''Ghost of Christmas Present.''

Jonathon laughed. ''Bullshit.''

''Language.'' Max wagged his finger at him.

''Why did you pick me to come with you?''

''Can't you believe that maybe I wanted to give you a second chance?''

''No.''

Max shrugged. ''Fair enough.''

''What's to stop me from walking away. Ditching you and this mission?''

''You really want to find out? Miss Hell already?'' Jonathon visibly flinched. Max looked apologetic. ''Look, think what you want. The fact is I picked you because I wanted your skills. Now, I don't know for sure, but I _think_ the only reason the Angels let you come with me is because they know that you want to atone for the things you did. And a way for you to do that is by helping me, which will also be helping Heaven.'' Max spread his hands in conclusion. ''Thus, atonement.

Jonathon was skeptical. ''So, what happens after this little mission? Do we stay alive or get 99 other tasks?''

Max looked away, bitting his lip. ''I don't know.''

''You're lying.''

''Let's see how this task goes and take it from there, okay Hercules?'' Before Jonathon could ask another question, Max ran ahead a few steps. ''Here we are!''

Jonathon didn't change his pace and made Max wait until he caught up. They were standing at the base of a mountain, Max leaning in front of a large chunk of rock. ''Where is here?''

Max didn't answer. He pulled a stele that Jonathon hadn't noticed from his belt. Clearly, on top of the outfit change, the Angels also saw fit to give Max weapons. ''What are you doing?''

''Portal,'' Max said simply. ''Angels taught me how.'' In a second, there was shimmering doorway in the wall of rock. ''Ready?''

Jonathon eyed him skeptically. There were a thousand blanks he wanted filled in, but Max had been right about one thing; he didn't want to go back to Hell.

He smiled widely, the smile that made people uneasy around him, reminding them he had demon blood in his veins. It had the desired effect. Max couldn't meet his gaze. ''Who am I to disrespect Heaven's orders?''

…

The portal had taken the somewhere Jonathon did know, which he found unsettling. He had pretty much been just about everywhere at one point or another in his life, so to have no clue as to where Max and he were headed made him very uneasy. Of course, he also thought he should've know if there were any rumors about a rogue Heavenly weapon laying around on Earth.

It was a run down village they had spent hours wandering around. Max seemed to have an idea of where they were and where they were heading, but he didn't offer any explanation to Jonathon, and Jonathon was above begging. So instead he settled for annoying the younger boy.

''Well, we must be somewhere in Europe. People are speaking English primarily. Unless of course this is like _Star Trek_.''

''_Star Trek_?''

''Affirmative, Mr. Chekov. You know, the show where humans travel thousands of light years into space and everyone speaks the same language and only those unluckily clothed in shades of red die?'' He picked at Max's shirt. ''Red would go lovely with your complexion.''

Max had simply shrugged him off and continued leading the way.

He never rose to the bait, Jonathon noticed. No matter the comments Jonathon made (and he made plenty) about the surroundings, about Heaven, about Max's family, Max never got mad. He showed restraint yes, but there was something about his manner Jonathan couldn't quite put his finger on.

Of course, he had never been the best at identifying emotions. His father had given him some tools in his youth on how to help him with that- a ring that glowed when someone was scared, a necklace that vibrated when someone was angry. Jonathon had done his best to never get in a situation where he was dependent on reading people. But he had no other way to get information out of Max Lightwood.

Hours later, they were laying on the ground in the woods a few miles away from the town. The day had been spent with Max exchanging words with shady looking people, whom he always spoke with aways away from Jonathon. Jonathan couldn't catch their conversations, and they always ended before he had a chance to approach and eavesdrop. At the third such conversation, he realizes he was scared.

_''__You really want to find out? Miss Hell already?'' _Max's earlier phrase rang in his ears. Jonathon didn't want to go back. He was scared of stepping out of line, of doing something that would cause the Angels to smite him down and throw him back into that black pit.

If he had to guess (which he did) was that Max was getting a location. A location where presumably the Heavenly Sword was being kept. But why such secrecy? Why the strange location? And the suspensions people? Max said he wanted him for his skills. Would he had to fight for the sword? Were other people after it? But then why hadn't he been given weapons? Why had Max been told to made the portal?

_They don't want me to know where we are going, _Jonathon realized. _And they don't want me to fight when I find out. _But then what skills did Max want from him?

Jonathon gazed over at the boy, who was sleeping on the opposite side of the camp fire he had made. During the running around town, Max had bought some blankets and food. The food they had eaten and the blankets they were now laying on. The Angels had given him money too. Strangely, Max only brought enough food for one night.

_Either we are going somewhere else tomorrow, or one of us isn't going to be around tomorrow._

But another curios thing picked at Jonathon's mind. _Why would Max volunteer for a Heavenly mission?_

Because he wanted to be brought back to life? Okay, sure. But that begged the question why the Angels wanted Max brought back to life. A question Jonathon couldn't fathom the answer to.

Jonathon's head pounded from exhaustion, and his wonderings weren't helping him. He closed his eyes, not bothering to worry about tomorrow. He had learned long ago worrying about the future didn't change it.

**Me: Do you like it? Are you interested in what happens next? Are you wishing for a time machine to take you back to the moment you decided to click on this and convince your past self not to waste the time? If you can, please leave a review and let me know!**

**See you soon with Chapter 2!**

**Happy Writing! **


	2. Trap

**Chapter 2**

Jonathon woke slowly, not opening his eyes until he tuned into his other senses. He could smell the burned out campfire. He could hear the wildlife of the forest, birds flapping and cawing, squirrels running around. Shame he hadn't bothered to study more plants and animals. He might have had more of a clue as to location.

He could feel himself being watched. He opened his eyes and glanced over to the roll opposite him. Max was sitting up, the backpack he bought in his lap. He averted his gaze when Jonathon looked at him. Guilty. He looked guilty.

''Breakfast?'' Max mumbled. He made himself busy by rummaging through the pack.

Jonathon got to his feet in a swift motion. He walked over to Max's roll. When Max looked up he was startled to see him there, nearly dropping the bread he was holding. ''Do you have to do that?''

''Do what?''

''Be so quiet,'' Max said angrily, handing over the roll. Still he would not met Jonathon's eyes. ''It's like you're a-''

''Ghost?'' Jonathon interjected playfully. He tossed the bread back and forth in his hands. He wasn't exactly hungry, more like the idea of eating made him nauseas. ''You know,'' he began, taking a bite out of the bread anyway, mostly for dramatic effect. ''If you hadn't been so stupid yesterday and thought ahead, you could have breakfast too.'' He studied Max's face. ''Unless you assumed two wouldn't be eating this morning.'' He swallowed the bread hard. Another wave of sickness swept over him, so he didn't bother taking another bite. ''So what is it? Did you hope bears were going to eat me last night?''

''I'm not hungry.'' Max got up and began rolling his bedding away. ''We won't be needing these anymore.''

Jonathon raised an eyebrow. ''How ominous.''

Max sighed in annoyance. ''Just let's get going.''

''Sure! Where to?''

Max gritted his teeth and set off, not even bothering to check if Jonathon was following. Anger or guilt? Unfortunately the only way to find out was to tag along. _Unto the breach_.

Again the day was filled with silence as they trudged through the woods. But as yesterday Max had been filled with the joy of being alive, it seemed the reality had hit and he was now sulking, weighted down with the job of living.

Jonathon wasn't sure what to do. He felt uneasy at Max's silence and his change of demeanor. He couldn't shake the feeling as they walked further and further into the woods that he was being lead into some sort of trap. But Max needed him, right? To fight for the sword?

But why was the sword in the woods? ''Is this some sort of Excalibur deal?'' He asked aloud. ''Am I going to have to pull the sword out of the stone? Are you Merlin?'' As he expected, Max kept his silence.

Further and further they walked. All of Jonathon's instincts were screaming at him. _He's a little boy. You can get far with a stele. It wouldn't be hard to overtake him._

_'' '__Miss Hell already?' ''_

That was the only thing that made Jonathon keep his mouth shut and continue putting one foot in front of the other. Whatever he was walking into, it was guaranteed to be better than the never ending cold blackness he has come from.

It was late afternoon before Max halted. They had just broken into a small clearing, no doubt at one time it had been a prime hunting spot. Jonathon could hear Max inhale sharply. ''We're here.''

Jonathon cast a glance at the greenery, exactly identical to the others they had spent hours walking through. ''Another unassuming bit of land. Kid, we gotta talk about your choice of places…''

Max ignored him (shocker), but he did something Jonathon hadn't expected. He looked up into the trees and shouted, ''_I'm here_!''

Before Jonathon could make a quip about ringing the doorbell, he heard footsteps. Someone- multiple someones- were coming towards them.

He spun around ready to fight, but was grabbed by the arms. A sack was thrown over his head with force, making him lose his balance. _Knew it. A trap._

It didn't matter if he knew it, he hadn't used the knowledge to his advantage. But why bother with a trap? Wasn't he doing what Max wanted? Helping him get the sword?

Jonathon was pulled roughly along. He tried kicking at his captors legs, hoping to twist them around and break free. But they pushed him along, leading him down twisting corridors. They must have entered a cave or underground structure of some sort. The air got colder, and more damp. Once he managed to succeed in throwing off his captor, but another took his place. Clearly they had come prepared.

The more they walked, the darker it got. Through the holes of the fabric, Jonathon could only see flashes of light. Torches, he assumed. They stopped suddenly, his captors holding tight to his arms so he couldn't move. The clinking of keys in a lock reached Jonathon's ears. A door swung open and he was pushed inside.

The door slammed shut before Jonathan could reach up and pull the sack off his head. When he did, he quickly took stock of his surroundings. He was in an underground room, if the dirt walls were anything to go by. The door behind him was wooden, with an iron grate in the top. The room looked like was used as an office when it wasn't holding people kidnapped in the woods. Bookshelves had been built into the wall, and a large table was at the far end, with simple chairs around it, as if for negotiations.

There wasn't much else to the room. Just as he was about to search the shelves for anything to be used as a weapon- knife, encyclopedia- the door opened again, just wide enough for a small figure to slip through.

''Max,'' Jonathan said, as the boy hurried to get away from the door before whoever was on the side closed it on his heels. ''What's going on?''

Max inclined his head to the opposite wall. ''Take a look.''

Jonathon turned sharply. One of the walls had a curtain hung up. He approached it and ripped it back without ceremony. His heart went cold as he processed the scene.

The room was several feet below the one he and Max were in, giving the view of a balcony, despite being underground. A throng of people had gathered below, though even from here he could tell _people _wasn't the appropriate term. All manners of creatures were gathered. Werewolves, Vampires, Faeries, Warlocks, and no doubt even a wayward Shadowhunter or two. Jonathon could also see black shapes mingling through the crowd. Greater Demons.

The people were standing back, all facing a large wooden platform. Jonathon knew what it was- he had been here before. A perfect conglomeration of all sorts, all exchanging all sorts of news. It was an Auction.

The only rules of an Auction- have something to trade. If you are going to fight, do it outside and stay away from the main bidding area. Any creature who came to the Auction had no desire to draw attention to themselves and the only way to do that was to make sure you didn't draw attention to any of your fellow participants.

Jonathon faced Max. He tried to keep the trembling out of his voice. ''What are we doing?''

Max's face was expressionless. He had a good poker face, Jonathon had to give him that. But factoring in the guilt he had been wearing for the past couple hours prior, Jonathon could piece it together. He just hoped against hope he was wrong. ''The sword it up for bid,'' Max answered simply. ''We just have to buy it.''

Jonathon leaned against the table. He gripped it tight, feeling the blood being cut off in his fingers. ''In exchange for what?''

Max's gaze didn't waver. Clearly he had decided Jonathon wasn't worth the guilt. ''You.''

Jonathan had to chuckle. ''Perfect,'' he said, gesturing to Max. ''I gotta give it to you, it is perfect. Angels need their sword, and probably the only thing that any one of those fuckers will trade for it is the chance to rip off my head. Perfect.'' He nodded, laughing again. ''Should've ditched you when I had the chance.''

''But you didn't,'' Max stated.

''Clearly.''

''You didn't,'' Max continued. ''Because you didn't want to.'' His gaze softened every so slightly. ''It's like I said. This is your chance for the thing you want most in the world.''

_Redemption. _Jonathon let go of the table and curled his fist tight, feeling his nails cut his palm. He thought of all those people below. ''So this was always the plan? Angels trade me for their weapon. But what do you get out of it?''

''Life.''

''Yes, but why would the Angels offer you life? It doesn't make sense.''

Max's stare was still unwavering. His next words were quiet. ''Can you tell me no?''

And the last piece clicked for Jonathon. Of course Max was perfect for the job. What better way to make a desperate man accept his fate, strive for redemption, than have his murder victim ask him to?

Jonathon shrugged, trying to hide his fear. ''I've killed plenty. Why are you special?''

''Because I'm the one Clary knew personally.''

_You killed Max. _That was what she spit at him over the kitchen island. He never had a chance.

''So what?'' Jonathon asked. ''I'm supposed to walk down there, stand like a good little prisoner, and let you sell me for the sword?''

''Yes.''

Jonathon smiled. He could feel the rage building inside him, swirling around like the beginnings of a dangerous storm. There were a thousand things he wanted to do, a thousand ways he could attempt to break out of this situation.

_''__Miss Hell already?''_

_''__Redemption.''_

Jonathon inhaled slowly. ''Do you know what those people will do to me? Once they get their hands on me?''

''Yes.'' Max's voice was hushed.

Jonathon could hear his father's voice in his head. _When cornered, make a distraction. When without a weapon, make one. If you are ever at a disadvantage, make your own advantage. _He would easily overtake Max. Could possibly cause enough distractions to get past the security. But that is why the Angels picked Max. They knew he could probably get out. The only thing stopping him was Max.

Jonathon ignored Valentine's teaching. He ignored his instincts and self preservation and nodded once. ''Okay then.''

**Me: I hope you enjoyed! If you can, please leave a review and tell me what you think!**

**Happy Writing! **


	3. The Auction

**Chapter 3**

The light was bright on the stage, but not bright enough to blind him from seeing all the people in front of him. When the host announced his name, you could've heard a penny drop in the cavern. Now though, they had recovered their shock and shouts were breaking out. Reactions varied from shock and disbelief to ecstatic joy. Prices were called out, jewels offered, anything and everything people could think of for the chance to be the one to cause the death of Jonathon Morgenstien. Those who weren't bidding were egging those who were on.

Max stood a few paces away. He had an impasse expression on his face, not even blinking at the offers of treasures. He had come for the sword. He was going to get the sword.

Jonathon wondered who here had it. Who here possessed the Angels' weapon, and how they were sure the person would trade it for him. He wondered, until he saw her.

Her posture and air about her set her apart from all he rogues and outlaws in the cavern. Her red hair tumbled down in waves, making her eyes flash like fire. She smiled at him, her fingers tracing the sword in her hands.

_Of course it's you. _

Faeries and their inability to lie is what made Jonathan like them in the first place. There was no guessing emotions with them. They said what they meant and how they felt without the guessing, without the guise of politeness. If they were going to manipulate you you could easily tell by their words. When he had become involved with the Seelie Queen, it had been purely strategy. They worked together, their interests aligned. But he had made promises he hadn't fulfilled. _I like my people on the winning side, _she said. He had lost, he had brought them down. And he had no disillusions about what the Clave was making them do to atone.

The Queen kept his gaze. Even he, who was so bad at interpreting emotions, knew exactly what she was thinking. _You ruined me. Now I will ruin you._

Noise thundered in his ears. He couldn't hear the bidding, but he knew she had cast her call. No one objected the Queen. Max took it. Jonathon was being led from the stage into a holding cell. As the guards let him back, he passed her on her way to hand over the sword. She stopped to whisper in his ear.

''I'm so _excited _to have you back.''

Jonathon believed her, because faeries can't lie.

….

Crouched on the floor of the cell, Jonathon ran through a hundred different ideas. A hundred different escape routes. He could break out, but whether he'd make it out alive was a different question altogether.

Footsteps sounded down the hall. A guard opened the door to admit Max. He stepped in and the guard closed the door behind him. ''Call when you're ready.''

Jonathan stared at him as the guard retreated back the way he came. He laid eyes on the new belt he was wearing, Heaven's sword sticking out. ''Will this be enough?''

''What will?'' Max asked quietly. He wouldn't meet his gaze, his fingers tapping Heaven's sword.

''This.'' Jonathon gestured to the surroundings. ''Going to the Seelie Queen. Is it enough?''

Silence. Just as he was wondering if Max was ever going to answer, he was punched in the face.

Max stood over him, landing blow after blow on Jonathon's face. ''It will never be enough!'' He hissed. He stomped on his chest. Jonathon felt a rib give out. ''You killed me! You killed Sebastion Velerc! How many died in the battle at Lake Lyn? At the Burren? And don't think I don't know what you did to Jace. And what you tried to do to Clary.''

Max grabbed his shirt and stared at him. His eyes were full of tears. ''It will never be enough. You will never be redeemed.'' The sentence hung in the air. A horrible proclamation, worse than a death sentence. Jonathon could see Hell, could see that cave. _Never ending. Never changing. Forever and always alone._

Max took a deep, shaky breath. ''But this- this is a start.''

He let go of Jonathan and turned his back. Jonathon propped himself up on his elbows. Blood was flowing into his mouth, some flowed from a cut in his forehead and got into his eyes. He looked at Max, the boy who ran down to warn everyone of the towers being activated, clutching a toy. The boy he killed. He nodded. ''Okay.''

It was barely a whisper. Whether Max heard or not he didn't know. Max called for the guard and was let out, not bothering to cast Jonathon another glance.

He wasn't alone for long. Soon the Seelie Queen came into the cell, her knights on either side. ''Well,'' she purred. ''I expected granting the boy one last conversation with you would leave you with some bruises but _my,'_' she grabbed his face, inspecting the damage. ''He does pack a punch, hmm?'' Her thumb brushed his cheek. She leaned in close. ''I am going to have _so_ much fun with you.''

Jonathon closed his eyes. Everything about her tone was taunting, daring him to object, to fight. And all his training, all his years of honing his instincts were telling him to do just that. _Fight. Destroy them. _But another chant was taking place in his mind. Quieter, but insistent.

_Atonement. Redemption._

Jonathon swallowed hard and forced himself to meet the Queen's fiery glance. Maybe he would never have people, have a family. Maybe this is all he was worthy of. Years alone and in torment, paying for his sins. But it was something. It wasn't the endlessness of that cave in Hell. It was something, however pointless and futile. Surely showing you were willing to pay had to count for something to the Angels. Maybe when the Queen allowed him to die, he would end up somewhere else. Be given a chance. Maybe.

But for now, this is all he had. Torment, pain, suffering. _A start._

He nodded in submission. ''As you wish, my queen.''


	4. Unorganized Thoughts

**Me: I hope you like the story so far. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**Chapter 4**

A blank page was full of endless possibilities. It's crisp white edges called to be darkened with charcoal, or to be soaked with watercolor. It longed to be scribbled on with crayons or scratched with colored pencils. It could be anything.

_But not everything. _Perhaps this was Clary's problem. For weeks now she had felt the urge to draw. She had taken out her sketchbook countless times, trying to capture the inspiration and trap it on the page. But every time she failed. She ended up either pawing at the page with warm ups, or simply staring at the white abyss.

She didn't know what the problem was. It didn't matter if she was in the comfort of her room or out and about, she just couldn't draw. It wasn't as if she didn't have ideas. But halfway through sketching a still life, or imitating her favorite anime characters, she lost interest. She had a picture in her head of what she really wanted to draw, but the image was blurry. Her mind couldn't see it properly so her fingers wouldn't do the work.

Clary sighed with impatience, pushing herself away from her desk. Her rolling chair bumped against a box on the floor, startling her and nearly causing her to tip. Another sigh escaped her as she got up from her chair, carful not to fall.

Her room was only half done. The whole apartment still needed to be unpacked and was still missing a few essentials. Her mom and Luke had decided to buy this loft in town, perfectly halfway between the bookstore and the Institute. Clary kind of missed Luke's house, but it was small. And now that life had sort of calmed down, she and her mom needed to start replacing the things that they had lost since the Ravenor demon attacked their old apartment.

Clary walked out of her room and down the hall into the main living room. It was similar to her and her mom's old apartment in that it was an open floor plan, but the similarities ended there. This was a modern space, and very, very spacious.

Her mother was on the floor of what would be the living room, once they bought a couch. She was unpacking a box of clothes she had ordered.

Clary smiled to herself as she plopped down in the only piece of furniture in the room, a soft armchair Luke had had in storage. It went well with the place. ''Packing?''

Jocelyn held up a blue top. ''I don't think this is what I ordered.''

Clary studied the top. ''Yes, it is.''

''It doesn't look right.''

''Well, when you look at something 1500 times, things tend to change a bit.''

Jocelyn tucked an escaped hair from her ponytail behind her ear. She laid the top across her knees. A _hmm_ was all the response she gave to her daughter's sarcastic quip.

Clary could sense her mother's unease. ''It will look great on you,'' she said with reassurance. ''A perfect top for the perfect honeymoon.''

Jocelyn sighed. ''Maybe we should't go away,'' she voiced for the tenth time in as many days, and Clary had to resist a sigh of her own.

''Mom,'' she said with patience. ''I will be fine. Everything will be fine. You and Luke need to go and have fun.''

''It's to soon.''

''No it isn't.''

''It's to far.''

''Wrong again.''

''We'll be gone for a long time.''

''I think I can get through 14 days without my mommy.''

''I know,'' Jocelyn said in a strange tone. Clary felt a stab of guilt.

''I promise no bikers or low life while you're gone,'' she teased.

Jocelyn managed a smirk at that. ''Didn't Jace steal a vampire's motorcycle?''

''I think it got confiscated.''

''Oh, well that makes me feel so much better.'' Jocelyn let out a breath. ''Okay, I will keep going, I suppose.''

''That's good, considering you are leaving tonight.'' Clary got up from the chair and kissed her mother's head. ''I'm heading to the institute. See you.''

''Don't you want to wait to say bye to Luke?'' Jocelyn asked as Clary retrieved her bag from a hook by the door.

Clary slung her bag over her shoulder. ''Well I would,'' she huffed. ''Except he seems to be late.''

''You can't wait five more minutes?''

Strangely enough, Clary couldn't. In addition to her inability to draw was the inability to keep still. She needed to move, to keep going. Where and where to she had no idea. But stalling her meet up at the institute was not something she wanted to do. ''I'll text him. I will also be buying a wall clock for the apartment while you are gone.''

….

Clary always took the same route to the Institute, so she barely paid attention to her surroundings and instead focused on her inner worlds. Daydreaming had always been one of her favorite pastimes and walking busy streets in the city was the perfect time to do it with minimal disruptions. Clary thought maybe some of her restlessness would disappear if she could imagine it away, let it get lost in one of her dreamed scenarios…

_She crouched on the floor, the red paint staining her hands as much as it did the walls. 'Good,' she purred, barely audible. Thousands of images were on the walls, but they didn't make sense. Harsh lines, crisscrosses of strokes making mazes. But they were powerful. He wanted power. She would give him power…_

Clary shook her head. No, where had that scene come from? It wasn't making her less anxious. Maybe something else…

_A punch. A kick. The prisoner didn't even gasp for breath. His captor frowned at him, putting her hands on her hips. ''Well, this isn't very entertaining,'' she mused. ''Then again, I suppose our time together really only occurred in the bedroom.'' A sick smirk encompassed her face. ''Perhaps we should return to our roots, hmm?'' The prisoner closed his eyes, not bothering with a retort._

''Ugh!'' Clary angrily kicked a sone out of her way, causing a couple of people to glance at her cautiously. She was fed up with her own mind. Daydreaming the way she did often involved torture scenarios, but that was wrong. _And very vivid._

Ignoring her mind, Clary focused on her footsteps, doing her best to turn off her imagination. But her mind didn't like to be pinned down. Without fantasies to distract her, she thought about why she felt so off these past few weeks. Her temper was short, her mind combative, her drawing gone. Maybe she was missing Simon, she thought. Maybe with him went all my personality.

''Clary?''

Clary was jostled out of her thoughts and was surprised to see the Institute gate. She had been about to pass it. And watching her about to pass it were Isabelle and Jace.

Clary tried to hide her embarrassment with a smile. She waved. ''Hello.''

''Deep thoughts?'' Isabelle teased as Clary walked up to them.

''Something dirty I hope,'' Jace contributed as Clary kissed him.

Clary thought of the red paint and blood. ''Me?'' She said innocently. ''No, I'm all puppy dogs and kittens.''

''Now there's a horrifying thought.'' Isabelle shuddered. ''I wouldn't trust you with a pet.''

''Now that hurts!''

Jace raised an eyebrow. ''Didn't Luke say you and Jocelyn once got a hamster-''

''Sick when we got it!'' Clary cut him off. ''You know, I'm thinking I meant to walk past here.'' She pulled away from Jace, who quickly pulled her back in.

''Nothing for you out there. Why leave?''

''Give me a good reason to stay.''

Isabelle held up a hand. ''Okay, my cue to leave, horny teens.''

''And where are you going?'' Jace called after her as she took off down the walk. Isabelle turned to stick her tongue out. ''Izzy!''

''Be back tonight!''

Jace clucked in annoyance as his sister went out of sight. ''Alec living with his boyfriend, Izzy out at all hours of the night. How sad is it that I am the only one who is staying home and behaving himself?''

Clary ran her finger along his collarbone. ''Behaving? With your girlfriend staying over?''

Jace grinned at her. ''Too true. I _am_ a wonderful host.''

**Me: If you enjoyed, please leave a review to tell me what you think! I do love feedback!**

**Happy Writing! **


	5. The Return Of Max Lightwood

**Chapter 5**

They were good. They trained a little, Clary practicing some more jumps and Jace doing his best not to mock her slip ups. They ordered from Taki's and ate in the library, discussing favorite books and themes. It was amazing how much they could enjoy each other's company when the world wasn't in danger and in need of saving.

Clary had packed her satchel with the intention of staying the night. Despite her assurance to her mother she would be fine, Clary didn't really want to spend the night alone in the new apartment. But her mother would have been horrified at the idea of Jace spending the night, so Clary didn't suggest that. Of course, her spending the night at the Institute would have also equally horrified her mother. But as she had never even mentioned that as an option, she technically didn't lie or deceive. Just left out certain truths.

''Something wrong?'' Jace asked, frowning at her. It was late now. They were in his bed. She must've had that faraway expression on her face again.

''No,'' she said, laying on her stomach and propping herself up on her forearms. God, she loved looking at him. He was just laying there, outfitted in grey sweats and a t-shirt. But still, being with him like this gave her a sense of peace nothing else did.

_You're the only thing that feels right._

Clary was little startled at herself for this realization, and yet it was so true. So obvious. She wasn't sure why everything felt off with her lately, but it was clear that Jace was right. He fitted in her world in a way everything she loved didn't at the moment.

''You sure?'' Jace asked. He looked a little concerned.

Clary laid her head down and pushed her thoughts out of her head. She smiled at him. ''I'm sure.''

''Okay.'' He took one of her braids and flung it back over her shoulder. ''You can tell me if there is, you know.''

_If I knew what it was, I would tell you. _Clary thought desperately. She hated this feeling of wrongness, misplacement. She wished it would go away.

She let out a breath and went closer to Jace, tucking her head under his chin. ''Love you.''

His arms wrapped around her, one arm on her back and the other stroking her braids. ''I love you too.''

_…__._

_Run. _

_Run._

_Run. _

_Time ticking. _

_'__Help me.'_

_Experiments. _

_'__I found your daughter.' _

_'__Don't leave me!'_

_'__Clary!'_

_Bang bang bang._

Clary woke with a bitter taste in her mouth. Her heart was hammering. She could feel the banging in her head, beating her bones. It wasn't until Jace sat up next to her, looking at her in concern that she realized the sound was the Institute doors. ''The hell?''

Jace got up swiftly, darting in the hallway. Clary followed, grabbing her sweatshirt and tugging it on. She tried to control her breathing from her dreams and keep up with Jace.

Isabelle was in the hallway. Clary had no idea of the time, but Isabelle was dressed for bed, so she had been home for a while. ''Who is that?'' she hissed.

''How should I know?'' Jace bit back. All three of them went to the elevator.

''It takes three Shadowhunters to answer the door?'' Isabelle asked.

''Last time this happened, Simon was dead,'' Clary said, rather unhelpfully. She hated herself for bringing it up. Neither Jace or Isabelle seemed put off by the statement, but simply looked at each other as if realizing this was a valid point. Together they went downstairs.

Clary wished whoever it was would stop banging on the door. Her heart had decided to keep time with the beat, just as it had in her dream. _Bang bang bang._

The rhythm was interrupted by the creak of the elevator as it opened. Rushing to the doors, Jace and Isabelle pulled them open.

Time froze for a second. It took them all a full, horrific minute to process what they were looking at. _Who_ they were looking at.

''I know,'' Max Lightwood said quickly. ''I know you don't believe it's me. But it is, I swear by the Angel. Look,'' He produced a blade, which made all three of them flinch. He raised it peacefully. ''Silver. Okay? See, I can touch it.'' He cut his palm. Red blood flowed. ''Uh, God. See, I bleed. And I just said God, so I am not a vamp. Though we can wait for sunrise if you really want. I know you probably don't want me in the institute until you're sure. Um, my third birthday you two and Alec tried to bake me a cake, which is how we had to remodel the kitchen the first time. No shapeshifter could know that.'' He faltered as he watched their expressions remain unchanged. ''It's me. I swear. I've already been to Idris and done the whole Mortal Sword spiel. Mom and Dad weren't there yet. I was going to wait but I couldn't. I thought if I hurried here I could see them before they left but clearly I was too late.''

Silence still came from the three of them. ''Please,'' Max whispered. ''It's me. Please believe me. Oh! I have papers form the Clave in my pocket-''

''Max,'' Isabelle said hoarsely.

Max looked at his sister. He swallowed hard. ''Yeah?''

There was no response. Isabelle and Jace descended on him, hugging him so tight there was a risk of suffocation.

Clary had to turn away and choke back a sob. She reached into her cell phone pocket, scrolling through the numbers. She selected one and let it ring, only for it to go to voice mail. ''Damn it Alec, pick up the damn phone…''

….

Magnus groaned as the phone rang for the fourth time. He glared at his oblivious boyfriend. He poked him. ''Answer it.''

''Night off,'' Alec grumbled.

''Yes, but your phone isn't.''

''They'll give up eventually.''

The phone stopped ringing and promptly began again.

''For god's sake-'' Magnus reached across Alec and grab the phone off the side table. He leaned against his headboard. ''It's Clary.''

''So?''

''It's another Shadowhunter. You are supposed to care.''

''Clary isn't at the institute. If it were an emergency, Jace or Isabelle would call me.''

''Clary_ is_ at the institute.''

''No, she's not.''

''Her parents left on their honeymoon today.''

''Really?'' Alec looked surprised at this information. ''Huh. So?''

''So-'' Magnus spluttered. ''God, why do I know more about your friends than you?'' He flipped open the phone. ''Yes?''

''Finally!'' Clary yelled. She sounded like she'd been crying. ''Where the hell is Alec?''

Alec could hear her tone through the speaker. He sat up in alarm. ''What's wrong?''

''Oh, suddenly you care?'' Magnus mumbled as his boyfriend took the phone.

''Clary? Did something happen?''

''Get over here now. _Right_ now.''

Both warlock and Shadowhunter were up in seconds, throwing on clothes. ''Do we need weapons?'' Alec asked, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder and trying to put a shirt on at the same time. Magnus watched as his expression became confused when the answer was negative. ''What are we walking into, Clary? Is someone hurt?''

The redhead simply repeated her previous order and hung up. Alec scowled at the phone. ''Heart attack, and no information.''

''Hurry up,'' Magnus advised, Clary's tone of voice ringing in his ears. He didn't know why he was so attached to that girl, and why the idea of her being in trouble worried him so much.

He and Alec were soon making a portal, appearing in the hallway of the Institute in seconds. They ran along, Alec shouting for his siblings. Clary called from the kitchen and stopped in the hallway to greet them.

Magnus could tell she had been crying. She pointed to the doorway. ''In there.''

Alec entered without hesitation, but Clary blocked Magnus' path. ''What?''

''Give them a minute,'' she told him.

''Who?'' Magnus demanded. ''What is going on?'' Clary just inclined her head to the door frame, right when Alec gasped. Magnus made to enter, but paused at the sight.

Four people were in the kitchen: Jace, Isabelle, Alec, and a short someone who Alec was hugging. When Alec finally released his death grip, Magnus saw the glasses and knew who he was looking at.

The people in the kitchen went into a flurry of explanation for Alec, but Magnus couldn't hear it over the buzzing in his ears. He remembered the day they brought the body of Max Lightwood in. It had been the only time he saw Alec's little brother. He remembered his look of dazed disbelief, and Isabelle's anguished cries. Wordlessly, he turned to Clary.

As a warlock, he couldn't sense any magic, but he knew he couldn't broach the subject with the rejoicing people in the kitchen. ''Is he-''

''He's real,'' Clary answered. ''Signed letters from the Clave. Enchanted too, impossible to forge. They say he underwent the Mortal Sword. It's really him.''

A weight lifted off Magnus' shoulders, relief at the fact that this wasn't some moment of joy soon to replaced by more anguish. But another horrible thought occurred. ''How?''

Clary bit her lip and shook her head. ''He refused to testify to that under the sword. Said the Angels gave him a mission to complete and he did so. To speak anymore about it was forbidden.''

Magnus nodded. But as he was a warlock, and Clary raised a mundane, he knew they were thinking the same thing. They didn't believe in the Angels' guidance like Shadowhunters did. Which begged the question: what did Max's resurrection cost?

''Get in here, both of you.'' Isabelle's order came from the kitchen. Magnus and Clary obeyed.

They stood awkwardly in the doorframe, not wanting to intrude. Alec pointed to them. ''That's right, you met Clary. This is-'' he hesitated. ''My friend Magnus.''

Magnus felt a slight twinge of annoyance at his boyfriend, though he supposed he couldn't blame him. Max Lightwood studied him up and down for a moment. ''Aline Penhallow owes me money,'' he declared, turning to Alec. He grinned widely. ''I _knew_ you were gay.''

The statement was so unexpected that Magnus burst out laughing while Alec blushed in embarrassment. Isabelle and Jace and Clary all joined in, and Alec managed a small smile.

Magnus studied the young Lightwood as he laughed with his siblings. Whatever the price the Angels made him pay to return to life, Magnus would fight to the death before he let them take Max away from his family again.

**Me: I hope you enjoyed! If you can, please review!**

**Happy Writing! **


	6. Forbidden Planet

**Chapter 6 **

**Me: Thank you to the person who favorited and followed- I hope you are enjoying the story!**

''Wow.'' Max draped his hand over a display of comics. ''This place is _amazing_!''

It had been two weeks since the miracle of Max's return. All the Lightwoods were now back under the Institute's roof and trying to recapture lost time. Clary had been respectful, giving the family some space and time while she and her returned parents finished setting up their new apartment.

Today was the first day that every realized that they could all relax and perhaps attend to living their lives without worrying something bad was going to happen. Clary decided to make the most of it and fulfill her promise to Max and take him to Forbidden Planet.

That was where she, Jace, Isabelle, and Alec were now. Clary couldn't contain her grin as she watched Max's mouth drop open at the sigh of all the comics. For a kid who traveled so much with his parents, Max probably hadn't done much more than browse airport bookstores.

''And here's Naruto,'' Clary pointed out. Max giddily looked at the display.

''There are so many!''

''Yes, we try not to hold it against them.'' Clary heard laughing, and turned to look at the three Shadowhunters still standing in the doorway. ''Problem?''

''No.'' Jace grinned. ''I just sometimes forget you like these types of things.''

''That's because my collection is tragically gone.'' Clary remembered her old room with a twinge of disappointment. She picked up a POP figure. ''I'll have to start all over again.''

Alec glanced at the toys. ''Those are ugly,'' he observed. ''You put those on display?''

''They don't even take them out of the packaging,'' Isabelle said from where she was idly flipping through a book. ''Simon has a whole shelf with them.''

Jace tiled Isabelle's book back, looking at the title. ''_Black Butler? _Oh my god, Simon's converted you.''

''Not really,'' Isabelle said, closing the book. ''He's trying though. I thought I'd read ahead in some so that way when he tries to tell me things I can make a guess on how it will turn out and pretend I deduced it.'' She smiled as she put the book back. ''It will drive him crazy!''

''How sweet,'' Clary said dryly, though not without a smirk. She wished Simon were here with them instead of in Alicante. She moved away from the figures into another display.

Jace came up behind her. ''Looking for something in particular?''

''Strategizing,'' she said simply. ''I am torn between replacing my favorites or branching out and trying something new.'' She picked up a magna and turned it over, reading the back. ''It's a hard choice to make.''

''Sounds like it.''

Clary looked up at him. ''Bored?''

Jace leaned against a shelf. ''While watching you? Never.''

She grinned as she put the book back. She saw Max holding the Naruto copies, waiting patiently for them to be purchased. He seemed content to leave with just those. No doubt he was overwhelmed by choices. She knew she had been the first time she and Simon had come here.

Clary stood on her toes to give Jace a kiss. ''I'll just check one thing and then we can go.''

''Don't hurry,'' he assured her. He went to go to Max.

As Clary walked a little further into the store, she thought about the first time she and Simon had come here. They had had the best time and probably read the back of every magna that was in stock at the time. She chuckled as she remembered how they had been planning to go for weeks, and how the day had come and they almost didn't make it because she had forgotten her bag and insisted she had to run back and get it…

_I never came back out._

Clary dropped the book she was holding, earning her a glare from an employee. She didn't care. She bent down to retrieve it and put it back, discreetly holding onto the rack for support.

_I went to get my bag and never came back out._

But that didn't make sense. Simon and her_ had_ come to the store. She cast through her thoughts, trying to remember. She had been nine. It was a three-day weekend from school. A Monday. Her mother hadn't been home that day. Jocelyn had been working part time at coffee shop when her paintings weren't selling and had worked Mondays and Wednesdays. An image of Jocelyn and Mrs. Lewis standing in the shop sprung into her mind.

No, her mother couldn't have been home. Her mother had come with them to the shop. But they couldn't have gone on a Monday, her mother had worked.

_I went to get my bag and never came back out._

An anger that was becoming all too familiar rose up in Clary as she shook her head. _This is stupid, _she thought to herself. _It was seven years ago. Who cares when Simon and I first came here?_

Clary marched back to the front of the store. The others were waiting for her outside. It didn't matter, she told herself. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that it _did_ matter. Why did she have that distinct though of _I never came back out? _Of course she had. She must've. She was just remembering things wrong as one usually does when they get older and the past gets further away.

Clary was grateful for the fresh air that greeted her as she exited the store. Her companions looked at her. ''Taki's?'' Isabelle asked, clearly continuing the conversation they had been having prior to her entrance.

Clary nodded her assent. The party took off down the street, Jace and Clary lagging behind. ''You alright?'' Jace asked, swinging the bag that held Max's books.

''Yeah.'' Clary managed smile despite the sick feeling in her gut. ''Hungry.''

''It's probably not FDA recommended you eat this,'' Jace said, pulling something out of the bag. ''But I guess if you're starving it'll do.'' He handed her the POP figure she had been holding in the store.

''Tennet!'' Clary grabbed the toy with joy. ''Jace, that is so sweet!''

''Just don't leave him in the packaging,'' Jace said, remembering Isabelle's comment. ''It seems wrong.''

''I agree.'' Clary happily twirled the box in her hands.

''How come you didn't buy anything?'' Jace asked. ''Replace your collection or whatever?''

Clary paused at herself for a moment. She had totally forgot about shopping in her panic thought process. She chided herself, feeling disappointment. But there was no need to let Jace know that. ''Couldn't make up my mind,'' she smiled. ''I'll have to give it more thought before I go back.''

The way Jace was looking at her, Clary worried there might be something in her face betraying her true feelings. But he just smiled back and took her hand as they continued on their way.

**Me: Thank you for reading! If you have the time, please review!**

**Happy Writing! **


	7. A Good Day For Some

**Chapter 7**

It had been a good day. Good company, good food, good conversation. Yes, it had been a good day. So why did Jace feel so uneasy?

They had all gone to Taki's and ate and enjoyed themselves. Magnus had joined them halfway through their meal. They had taken their time, not wanting to rush back to the Institute. When they did leave, Clary had walked back with them, stalling her own departure home. Jace had offered to walk her back, but she had refused.

''No need,'' she had said. ''I'll be fine.''

Of course she would be, Jace knew that. But there was something in her manner lately that had worried him. Clary was a bit of a dreamer, losing herself in her own head. He thought of the night Max had come back, when she had stayed over. He remembered how distracted she had been. He also remembered how she had sat up in bed looking panicked. He had thought it was because of the door. Jace had been half asleep at the time, but as he looked back he wondered if she had been sitting up before Max banged on the door.

And then there was that incident today in the comic shop. Clary had practically raced out of the store. But when she talked to them she seemed fine. It was only when Jace wasn't looking directly at her, wasn't directly speaking to her that he thought something was wrong. Maybe he was paranoid. Or maybe she was hiding something.

Jace shook his head. If she was hiding something, he hoped it wasn't anything terrible.

A blurry of white snapped Jace out of his pondering. He flicked the napkin irritably to the floor. ''What was that for?''

''I said your name three times,'' Isabelle said angrily. She closed the freezer door with her foot. ''Do you want ice cream?''

Jace blinked. Clearly Clary wasn't the only one who could get lost in her head. ''Uh, sure.''

Jace watched from his kitchen stool as Isabelle dished out the desert. As soon as she filled a bowl, Max snatched it up. ''Thanks! I am going to go read!''

Before anyone could remind him of the 'no eating in anywhere but the kitchen rule', he was gone.

Isabelle dished out another bowl and handed it to Jace. ''What were you thinking about?''

''Nothing.'' Jace reached across the counter for a spoon.

''Clary?''

''Why would you think-''

''Because you _always_ are.'' Isabelle placed the ice cream lid back on the container before picking up her bowl. ''Besides, I was thinking about her myself.''

''Thinking about who?'' Magnus asked as he and Alec entered the kitchen, Alec holding the bag he had packed to go back with Magnus. Magnus looked at the ice cream. ''What? None for me?''

''Help yourself.'' Isabelle stepped away from the counter as Magnus grabbed a bowl.

Alec tossed his bag on an empty stool. ''So, what were you guys talking about?''

''What do you think of Clary?'' Isabelle gave a warning look. ''Nice things only.''

Alec blinked. ''I think she's a short redhead,'' he said simply. ''Why? And what does that mean, 'nice things only'?''

''You don't think she seemed a little off today?''

''No.'' Alec glanced at Magnus as he closed the ice cream container. ''Where's mine?''

Magnus held a spoon between his teeth. ''It's self serve,'' he informed him, sliding the desert across the counter to him.

''Why do you think something's wrong with her?'' Alec asked as reopened the container. He frowned at the contents. ''There's barely anything left.''

''Barley is better than nothing.'' Magnus held a spare spoon out.

''She just seemed off,'' Isabelle repeated. ''Like she was thinking about something else.''

''Maybe she was?''

''She seemed scared,'' Jace put in. ''When she came out of the store.''

''She always has this look about her lately,'' Isabelle continued. ''Like she just saw something she didn't know what to make of.''

Alec looked between his siblings. ''I didn't notice anything,'' he said honestly. ''Besides, even if something is bothering her, it's not anyone's business unless she brings it up.'' Alec licked the last of the ice cream off his spoon. ''Alright, I'm done. Magnus, you want to leave?''

''Hmm?'' Magnus looked as if he had been thinking of something to say, but changed his mind. ''Fine,'' he said, placing his bowl of ice cream down. He picked up his boyfriend's satchel. ''Huh, heavy. You'd think there's more in here than two of the same sweaters and a pair of jeans.''

Alec ignored him. ''Bye guys,'' he said, leading the way out. Jace saw him try and take the bag from Magnus, who was still commenting on which of Alec's plain tastes could be making the bag so heavy.

Isabelle let out a sigh as she gathered the empty dishes. ''I'm going to my room,'' she said. ''And don't worry about Clary. Alec's right. It's not our business unless she brings it up.''

Jace raised an eyebrow. ''Since when has that been your policy?''

Isabelle shrugged. ''With everything that's happened in her life, she probably needs some privacy.''

Jace nodded his agreement as his sister took her leave. He lingered for a moment in the kitchen before deciding it was probably best if he tried to settle in for the night. Or, if failing that, to train a little bit to wear him out. Just as he was turning around to do so, he saw Max enter the kitchen.

''Hi,'' Max greeted, placing his ice cream bowl on the counter. He studied Jace's face. ''You okay?''

''Yeah.'' Jace smiled. ''How's your book?''

''Good,'' Max shrugged nonchalantly. ''Everyone left?''

''Uh huh. Alec didn't say goodbye?''

''He did when he was coming down.'' Max hesitated. ''I-uh, heard you guys talking about Clary. Is she okay?''

Jace settled back on his chair. ''Of course she is,'' he assured his brother. ''You don't have to be worried.''

Max shifted uncomfortable from foot to foot. ''Is it because everything that happened…?''

''What do you mean?''

''You know. The battles and her brother…''

Jace blinked. ''How do you know about her brother?''

Max grinned a little. ''You learn things when your dead.''

Jace managed a chuckle. ''Clary's fine,'' he lied. ''I'm just being paranoid.''

''I guess that must be better than being oblivious.''

''I hope so.'' Jace watched as Max turned to go. ''Hey, what else do you learn when you're dead?''

Mag shrugged. ''Just stuff.'' He walked away, but Jace's ears pricked as he started signing. ''_Because the night belongs to lovers, because the night belongs to us…''_

''What does that mean?'' Jace demanded. ''Max!'' The eleven year old ran down the hall, laughing.


	8. Sleepless Nights

**Chapter 8**

Max laid in bed, longing for sleep but dreading its arrival. He knew it would bring more dreams, and the dreams would bring more doubts. He didn't want either.

Though really _dreams_ wasn't the best thing to call them. Max knew they weren't dreams but actually clips of what was going on down in the Seelie Court. They were visions, constantly reminding him what was occurring for Jonathan Morgenstern.

Max didn't know why he could see what was happening. He wondered if it were the Angels showing him. Or maybe it was the Seelie Queen, thinking he'd like to see what his trade had rendered. Or perhaps, and Max feared most likely of all, it was that he and Jonathan were connected. Could have being brought back at the same time and the quest Max had volunteered them for forged a bond between them? Was that what made Max see what was happening to him every night?

Ever since he had come back, Max spent every night being a spectator in the Seelie Court. Or really, in some realm owned by the Seelie. He would be there, standing unseen by everyone as the Queen got her revenge on the demon who shortchanged her.

The Queen used all sorts of 'toys' to torture Jonathan, everything from magical instruments to stuff straight out of the middle ages. She'd taunt him, humiliate him, cut him with words and swords alike. Max would be lying if he denied enjoying it those first few nights. There was something poetic about it: a ruler punishing the demon who brought her kingdom to ruin.

_But is he a demon?_

This was the doubt that began springing up in Max's mind as the nights went on. The first few nights the Queen attended to the matter herself, taking extreme pleasure as Jonathan was ruined by her own hands. But lately her enthusiasm was waning. Now she usually sent some other guard of her's to handle the deed, or set her prisoner some difficult task. Of course she still took time out to gloat, to pass his cage with a smirk. Seemingly the knowledge that he was in her domain under her control was enough to satisfy her rage. Faeries lived for a long time- the Queen didn't need to rush her revenge.

But as Max watched as Jonathan grew paler, as he became sick as the days went on, the Doubt began creeping in. Jonathan didn't even speak. He kept every smart remark to himself as his torturers hurt him. When the sessions ended Max saw Jonathan curl in on himself, rocking back and forth and muttering under his breath.

_A start. A start. A start._

_He deserves this, _Max would argue at the Doubt. _He killed people. Sebastian. Me. He hurt Jace. He hurt Clary. _But while Max believed this to be true- that Jonathan deserved to be punished- he knew he was being a hypocrite.

Max didn't remember much of the afterlife, no doubt that was because the Angels didn't see fit to let him keep any knowledge of it. All he really remembered was when the heavenly weapon had been stolen he had seen is as an opportunity to return to life.

He had argued with the Angels (or something along those lines. Maybe argue wasn't the right word- Angels probably frown on that) that he could procure this weapon. Max couldn't remember how he had found out that the Seelie Queen had it, or how he had concocted his plan, but he had and had presented it to the Angels. After a moment of deliberation, they had given their answer.

No.

_What belongs to Hell stays in Hell, _Max had been told. _Jonathan Morgenstern was of Lilith's children. His soul belongs to her. _

Max could feel his chance slipping away. So he said something desperate. Something desperate and cold. _But he was a Shadowhunter, _he had countered. _He didn't chose to have demon blood. This mission could be a chance for him to redeem himself. To do a task for Heaven that would purify his soul. _

_And what after the mission?_

_Whatever you see fit._

Max wasn't sure how it had all fell in place after that. But next thing he knew he and Jonathan were walking away from Lake Lyn, off to retrieve a sword.

Max knew he was a hypocrite. To the Angels he argued that Jonathan could have a chance. To himself he had argued that he deserved everything the Seelie Queen could deal out and more to pay for his sins. He still held that opinion. That demon deserved to pay.

Which brought him back to his Doubt. _Was Jonathan still a demon?_

When Max had made his case to the Angels, he had only thought of using Jonathan as a tool. The perfect tool to do what the Angels wanted and earn himself a ticket home. He hadn't thought about what would happen to Jonathan after the mission. _Whatever you see fit _was what he replied because he honestly didn't care. Send him back to Hell, leave him in the Seelie Queen's possession- what was the difference? Weren't both scenarios the same?

Except he, Max, had led Jonathan into the trap. Had strung him along with tempting words such as _atonement _and _redemption. _And despite his sharp tongue, despite his angry eyes, Jonathan had followed. Max thought of him flinching when he asked if he missed Hell, the fear in his eyes as he told him it no matter what he did, it would never be enough.

Jonathan wanted redemption. He wanted to be saved. If that wasn't proof he wasn't a demon anymore, what was?

But his crimes still remained. Who was he, Max, to decided that he could be forgiven?

As he laid in bed, Max had a horrible moment of clarity. _Who am I to decide he needs to be punished?_

Jonathan had killed him. He hurt his brother and countless other Shadowhunters. For that Max could hate him. But could he dictate his punishment?

_Whatever you see fit._ Max wondered if the Angels had turned his phrase around and applied it to him. Max knew with a horrible certainty that no matter how much he hated Jonathan, the visions he had of the Seelie Queen's treatment of him was not a just punishment for what he did to him and his family.

_But what about what he did to others?_

Killing Sebastian, all the people he endangered by taking down the wards, all the people who were killed because of the wards being down, what he did to Clary—

_Clary._

And there was Max's answer.

Clary was Jonathan's sister. If anyone wanted him redeemed, it would be her. If anyone wanted him to pay, it would be her. Max didn't have the right to determine whether Jonathan should suffer in the Seelie Queen's Court like he was, but Clary did. Clary deserved to make the choice.

_Whatever you see fit _was what Max had told the Angels, but as they had seemingly thrown the ball to him, he would pass it along. Whatever Clary saw fit would be what he would do.

Feeling like a weight had lifted off of him, Max finally allowed himself to sleep.

**Me: Thank you for reading. If you have the time, please review! **

**Happy Writing! **


	9. Sleepless Nights Part 2

**Chapter 9**

_Clary ran to catch up to Simon, her hand grasping his as she did. ''Finally!'' he laughed. This is going to be great! Gosh, I can't wait!''_

_Clary nodded hard as she gasped for breath. ''It will be the best day every!'' She exclaimed. ''I want to find the Pokemon magna, and maybe they will even have those back issues of-'' she froze. ''Oh no.''_

_''__What?''_

_''__My bag!''_

_Simon waved his hand. ''You don't need it.''_

_''__No! It has my sketchbook and pencils-''_

_''__We are shopping for comics! Not drawing!''_

_''__You never know when inspiration will hit.''_

_''__Clary-''_

_''__I'll be two minutes!'' And then she raced inside. She opened the apartment door and burst in, not bothering to call to her mother and inform her of her re entry. Her bag was lying on the floor in the entryway. She was about to pick it up and dash outside, when in the kitchen was yelling. Crying. Her mother screaming in anger…_

_The scene changed. Someone was holding her high up, helping her reach an apple. It should be Luke, but it doesn't feel like Luke. The scene shifts again and she is standing in an old, damp room. The walls are blank, but at her feet is paint. Red paint. She can't see the man's face, but he is looking at her. Waiting. She looks down at the bucket and realizes with a dull certainty that it is not paint, but blood._

_Suddenly there's nothing but darkness, pale images flashing in her mind as if her eyesight has suddenly faded. A face appears and she squints to see it. A boy. Golden hair curls. His eyes are white with no pupils. Another one. This one scary and familiar all at once. Hugging her tight. 'I knew I could have a family.'_

_The darkness releases her into the room again, but this time the walls are painted. Red stains her hands. The sight of the man stirs nothing inside her chest, and the feeling makes her worry. Why she should feel something she didn't know. A chant comes from the shadows, growing louder and louder._

_'__Send her back.'_

_'__Send her back.'_

_'__Send her back.'_

_The man finally speaks._

_'__The perfect warrior.'_

_The pictures on the walls come to life and envelop her._

Clary sat up in bed. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. _What the hell was that?_

Forcing herself to take slow, controlled breathes, Clary tried to ignore the images in her mind. As vague as they were, they had felt so real…

Clary threw her bedcovers off and stood up, catching herself on her nightstand to keep from falling. Her legs were shaking. She was used to nightmares. She'd been getting them more and more frequently lately. But this had felt so intense. That room- it was the same one she had been picturing for the past two weeks. And her and Simon? She had just been thinking about that.

_Of course you were, idiot, _she scolded herself. _That's how the mind works. _

They were just dreams, she told herself. Just her subconscious manifesting her stress and anxiety into nightmares. Clary had previously considered that maybe a demon or something was invading her mind like Lilith had done to Jace, but her nightmares did nothing but spook and hurt her. No one else.

Just dreams.

Clary managed to straighten herself up and walk a few steps. Maybe if she got a drink of water and changed out of her now sweaty nightclothes she could fall back asleep.

Two steps across the room, Clary stumbled. A picture appeared in her face, an idea for a mark. But what made her stumble was the shocking red color of it. The same color as blood.

It was one of the marks that had sprang off the wall in her dream, the one that had embedded itself in her forehead, burning and whispering as she was consumed.

_Remembrance._

Clary collapsed to the floor in a numb horror. _Remembrance. _For what? _Remember what?_

_Ring._

The sound of her cellphone ringing was so ordinary it made Clary jump. She was to exhausted and strung out to talk to anyone. But the desire to not think about her dreams and the mark and the curiosity of who could be calling in the middle of the night made her reach over to her desk and answer.

She frowned at the caller ID before answering. ''Max?''

''Clary,'' Max's voice sounded very small. ''I'm sorry that I'm calling so late. But I was wondering if we could talk…?''

…..

Max asked Clary to meet him at Taki's. Luckily Clary's bedroom window had access to the building's fire escape. She didn't want to risk waking her mother and Luke, who would both no doubt object to her going out at this late hour. So Clary scribbled a note in case her absence was discovered and ducked out the window.

Soon she and Max were sitting in the same booth they had occupied hours earlier, only this time there was no one but them. It was fortunate Taki's was open 24 hours a day, despite it's seemingly low night life clientele. Other than a vampire couple sitting at the counter, Max and Clary were the only customers.

''Are you alright, Max?'' Clary asked. She was thoroughly puzzled as to why the young Lightwood summoned her.

Max shifted uncomfortably. He look worried. ''Yeah. It's just-'' he bit his lip. ''Clary, I lied when I came back.''

Clary drew a deep breath. She thought of her and Magnus' conversation the night Max had appeared, how they both feared there was some catch to be revealed. ''What about?''

''About how I came back.'' Max drummed his fingers on the table.

_Here it comes, _Clary thought. She thought of Isabelle's heartbroken cries, Alec's face of terror, Jace's look of incomprehension.

''I made a deal with the Angels.''

''A deal?'' Clary's mind went blank. _Can Angels back out of their deals?_ ''You made a deal?''

Max nodded. ''I volunteered for a mission to get an item back in exchange for them bringing me back to life.''

''And-'' Clary's mouth went dry. ''Is there some sort of time limit or-''

''No!'' Max declared. He smiled. ''I'm back for good. That's not what I lied about.''

Clary allowed herself to breath. ''Well, thank god,'' she said. ''Your family would be devastated.''

Max's smile wavered. ''Yeah?''

''Of course. Your family loves you. And your siblings adore you. To lose you again would be unthinkable.''

Max seemed lost in thought. He traced his fingers along the table. ''Because that's how family is, right? They always love you.''

Clary thought of her mother and Luke, who hopefully didn't realize she was gone. ''Yeah,'' she agreed. ''Your true family always love you.'' She frowned. ''So, why did you call me here? What did you lie about?

Max raised his head to look at her. ''I said I couldn't talk about the mission the Angels gave me,'' he said. ''Or really, the one I volunteered for. That's not really true.''

''But you said it while holding the Mortal Sword.''

''If you chose the right words, it's not strictly lying, is it?''

''True.''

''So thats's what I lied about. That the Angels didn't tell me not to talk about it, and that they really didn't give me a job so much as I made a deal with them. I said I would get their item back.''

''And in exchange they gave you life.''

''Yeah. It's not exactly protocol, but they were happy to do it. Until I said I needed help from someone.''

''Why did you need help?''

''I thought the only way to get the item was to trade someone's life for it. That the person who had the item would only give it up in exchange for the chance to get revenge.''

Clary thought for a minute. ''So, you told the Angels you would get their item, but you needed to trade another person for it. This person was already dead?'' Max nodded. ''Okay. So the Angels gave their permission and you got the item. But Max, why are you telling me?''

Max swallowed hard. ''Because the person I used was your brother.''

_And there's the catch._

Clary had to remind herself to breathe. ''You mean Seb- Jonathan- my _brother _is alive?''

Max nodded. ''I traded him to the Seelie Queen.''

Stabs of panic ran through Clary until she remembered something. ''You traded him for revenge, right? So she's not in league with him. She's-''

''Punishing him,'' Max finished.

Clary felt herself relax. ''So, he's in prison? He can't get out?''

''No. But Clary, that's why I wanted to talk to you. I see him in my dreams. The punishments- it's not fair.''

''Max,'' Clary's voice was soft. ''He killed you.''

''And I hate him for that. I hate him for what he did to me, and my family, and all the Shadowhunters he hurt and endangered. But Clary, I led him on. He wanted to be saved. Redeemed.''

''Max, he's a demon. Or was. It's not up to you to decide whether or not he can be saved.''

''But I did.'' Max looked like he wanted to cry. ''I told him if he helped me on my mission he could be.'' He took a shaky breath. ''Clary, I want to know what you think.''

''Me?''

''He's your brother,'' Max said simply. ''Out of everyone he hurt, he hurt you the most. I can't decide if it's fair for him to rot in the Seelie Queen's Court, but if you think it's best, I'll leave it at that.''

Clary didn't know what to make of this entire conversation. ''You want me to decide if Jonathan should stay in prison or be free?'' Max nodded. ''Max, the things he did…''

Max met her eyes. ''And if I thought for one second he was the same person who did those things, I wouldn't even bring this up.''

Clary felt like she was shaking right to her very core. Max looked so sad, so guilty. _My brother is alive. _She managed a deep breath. ''Max, I need to think about this.''

Max nodded understanding. ''Sure. But, can we keep this between us please?''

''Of course.''

''Great.'' Max got up. ''And Clary? Thank you.''

**Me: I hope you enjoyed! If you have time, please review! **


	10. The Solution To The Problem

**Chapter 10**

Clary walked Max home. He showed her how he had managed to get out of the Institute by slipping down a tree right next to his bedroom window. After seeing him climb safely back up and inside, Clary went her own way home.

As she walked her mind spun. Jonathan, alive. Max brought Jonathan back. And he wanted her to do something about it.

Clary thought of Max's guilty look. _'I see him in my dreams. The punishments- it's not fair.' _He was struggling with what he did to him, even though he deserved it.

_'__And if I thought for one second he was the same person who did those things, I wouldn't even bring this up.'_

Was it possible that Jonathan wasn't the same person? That maybe the green eyed boy who died in Hell was what Max brought back? Clary didn't know.

She shook her head. She didn't know that, but she _did_ know that even if that was true, what did it matter? What life could he possibly live? It would be better if he had stayed dead._ But then Max wouldn't be here…_

_He should be dead. _

That was what Clary wanted she realized with only slight horror at herself. She didn't want any more surprises right now. She wanted her life to be simple, as simple as a Shadowhunter's life ever could be. She didn't want to worry about the possibility of Jonathan breaking out of the Seelie Court. Nor did she want Max be plagued by guilt.

_He needs to die._

And there was Clary's answer. Max wanted Jonathan not to be suffering because of him, and Clary wanted him gone. So the solution was to kill him.

A plan started forming in her head as she walked. By the time she slipped unnoticed back into her room, she had it. It was flimsy and would require her to break her promise to Max, but if Jace cooperated, it might solve all their problems.

_…__._

''You want to do _what_?''

''Just hear me out,'' Clary said patiently. It was early morning. She had Jace meet her in a shaded area of the park to discuss her plan. She told him of her conversation with Max and her thought process, and was now trying to pitch her idea of fixing everything.

Jace was struggling to process the news. He opened his mouth to speak, probably to exclaim again, but closed it and made a _go on _gesture with his hands.

''Jonathan needs to die,'' Clary continued, surprising herself on how matter of fact she was being about this. ''There's no other solution. He can't exactly be a Shadowhunter, no one would stand for that. Besides, if the Clave found out about him coming back, they'll kill him anyway. Not to mention Max might get in trouble.'' Jace nodded to show he was following. ''But Max won't want us to kill him.''

''Why?'' Jace asked.

Clary shrugged. ''He feels guilty,'' she said. ''I think he thinks that Jonathan is actually capable of being different. And he might be. But there's no point to it.''

Jace nodded. ''But Max would understand that.''

Clary shifted uncomfortable on the rock she was sitting on. ''I don't want him to be hurt,'' she said, no sure if it was her place to say so. ''He was really upset last night, Jace. I think he brought the choice to me because he thought it would make him feel better, but if I tell him to just leave things as they are, I think he will still be struggling and might do something stupid.''

''As opposed to the perfectly not stupid thing you are about to tell me you want to do?''

Clary took a deep breath. ''I tell Max I want to free Jonathan.''

Jace sighed. ''I knew it.''

''I tell him that,'' she went on. ''And he leads me to where the queen is keeping him. I leave him behind and go to rescue Jonathan, but kill him when I get there. I get out and tell Max the guards stopped us and killed him.'' Clary counted off her fingers. ''Max isn't hurt, Jonathan's out of the way, and no one else knows a thing.''

Jace looked like he was counting to ten. ''That is a _horrible_ plan,'' he said.

''You have a better one?''

Jace paced back and forth around the clearing. ''No, unfortunately.'' He sighed again. ''I have to come with you.'' Clary shook her head. ''Clary-''

''Jace, then Max knows I told you! He'll guess something's up!''

''You can't just walk in there without any backup!''

''_You _are my backup,'' Clary countered. ''Look, I need you to stay behind. That way- god forbid something go wrong- we have a last resort. Otherwise there is no backup.'' She leaned back. ''If all goes according to plan-''

''-To _flimsy_ plan.''

''-To _flimsy_ plan, me and Max will be back before anyone has any reason to suspect us gone. Maryse and Robert have to leave for Idris again, right? So that leaves Isabelle and possibly Alec to contend with. You will hang around the Institute, out of sight, in case you need to get their help. My mom and Luke will think I'm with you and Alec and Isabelle will think we went back to the comic store with Max.''

Jace closed his eyes in frustration. ''_Horrible_ plan.''

''I know.''

Jace opened his eyes again and looked at Clary. ''Do you really think you can bring yourself to kill him again?''

Clary thought for a moment. ''Yes,'' she said solemnly.

Jace breathed heavy. He nodded consent. ''Okay.''

Clary got up and hugged him. ''It'll work out.''

Jace rested his chin on top of her head. ''Have I reminded you how flimsy your plan is in the past two seconds?''

Clary chuckled and pulled away to look at him. She kissed him. ''It'll work out,'' she said again.


	11. The Plan Is Begun

**Chapter 11**

Leaving was almost too easy. Two days after Clary and Jace's discussion was when they set out. Maryse and Robert were apprehensive about leaving Max behind while they went on to Idris, but when Max claimed it was because he didn't really want to be back in the place where he was killed again, they didn't push him. Clary was beginning to realize how very manipulative Max could be. He knew just what to say to get people to do what he wanted.

_And that's why we are here, _Clary thought. _Because he tricked Jonathan and now feels guilty._

Clary told her mother the same thing Jace told Isabelle and Alec- he, her, and Max were going to the comic store again.

''Why don't we come with you?'' Alec had asked.

''Because you barely controlled your boredom last time,'' Jace said. Isabelle had laughed and agreed this was true. No more questions had been raised after that.

After they were done talking to Isabelle and Alec, Clary met up with Max in the hall. Jace said goodbye to them and went into the library, where he would disappear. As far as Max was concerned, Clary had informed all three of his siblings that only they would be going to the store.

And now she and Max were in an alleyway, where Max was drawing a portal.

''I've seen it in my dreams,'' he said as he drew with a stele he had snatched from the weapons room. ''I don't know where it is geographically, but I should be able to get us there.''

Clary watched as Max drew. ''Maybe after you make the portal, you should stay here,'' she said. ''It might be better.''

Max shook his head. ''No. I want to go.'' He looked at her. ''I'm not much, but I guess I'm better than no backup.''

Clary nodded, trying not to think of the backup that might have to come if things went awry. ''So, how do you know how to do this?'' she changed the subject. She watched as he formed the portal.

Max shrugged. ''The Angels I guess.'' The portal glowed as Max finished connecting the lines. ''Okay.'' He stood up, brushing off his clothes. ''Um, Clary?''

''Yeah?''

''If you change your mind, I understand.''

Clary felt the lie she was living as she looked at Max's innocent face. He might be manipulative, but the guilt he was feeling was very real. He thought she was helping him rectifying his mistake. She was, but not the one he thought. ''I'm good, Max.''

He smiled. ''Thank you.'' And with that, they entered the portal.

….

They exited the portal and found themselves in a wood. Tall trees and lush plants were all around them. The canopy above them was so thick Clary could barely make out the blue stripes of sky.

''Up ahead should be a cave,'' Max said, pointing to their right. ''Inside will be a series of hallways. If you follow the one second to last on the right hand side, it should lead you to Jonathan.''

Clary looked to where he was pointing. ''Loving the use of the word 'should','' she mumbled. She turned to him. ''Alright, you wait here. Hide yourself.''

Max raised an eyebrow. ''In what? A tree?''

''That'll work.'' She turned to go. ''I won't be long.'' _I hope._

Clary walked along a few feet until she saw the cave Max mentioned. From far away, it simply looked like an awning of rock. It wasn't until she was in the mouth of it that she saw the deep expanse that stretched out before her.

_Fun, _she though bitterly as she took out her witch-light. Praying that she wouldn't set off to many alarms walking straight into the Court uninvited, Clary entered.

A few paces of walking in total darkness with the aid of her stone, Clary found the hallways Max had mentioned. There were a dozen total, looking like garages for trains. _Second to last on the right hand side, _Clary reminded herself. She walked on, placing a hand on the wall to guide her.

She walked on and on and on. The hallway twisted an turned, but no more doors appeared. Clary didn't even see guards or other prisoners. This made her uneasy. _I'm walking into a trap._

Clary wondered if Jonathan were in on the trap, whether Max's dreams had been designed to make him lead her here. She discarded the thought. _It doesn't matter. You are here now._

Step and step and step. Forward and forward and forward.

Clary wondered how long she had been walking. If she took to long, Jace would follow though with the backup. But that was for when she was in trouble, not because she was still trying to get there.

Just as she thought the path would never end, her hand stopped supporting her on the wall. She caught herself as she realized the wall ended to give way to an arch.

The rest of the hall was a dead end. Clary entered through the arch, not bothering with stealth; if anyone was in the room they would have seen her already. The room she was in now was mostly empty. To her left was another passage that seemed to have more light than the one she had just exited. In front of her the other half of the room was closed off. Prisoner bars.

Clary approached slowly. She saw a door. It was wide open. She stood in the door way and looked inside.

Clary had been prepared to see her brother. She had been prepared to fight him if necessary and kill him, and that would be that. But the sight that greeted her in the cell made her pause. Jonathan was indeed inside, but it was clear there would be no fighting on his part.

They stared at each other in silence. There was blood dried in his hair and on his clothes. He was siting in the corner, his head leaning against the wall. He raised it as he saw her, his green eyes showing his surprise. He spoke softly, his words slightly slurred. ''Is it enough?''

Clary didn't know what that meant, so she didn't answer. As she processed the scene in front of her, she realized that through her hasty planning, she had been imagining facing Sebastian. Even though she remembered all to clearly Jonathan's death, how the sword had burned the evil out of him, she still thought she would be facing a demon. Instead, she had to face a human being. Jonathan. Her brother.

_Just follow the plan, _she told herself. _Do it. _She reached to her belt and drew her sword.

Jonathan looked at it for a moment. ''At least tell me where I'll end up,'' he whispered. ''You're appearing to me as Clarissa. Is that good or bad?''

Appearing? _He doesn't think it's really me, _Clary realized_. _

''I don't want to go back to Hell,'' Jonathan continued. He was trembling. ''Just tell me. Was there ever a chance?'' He took a shaky breath. ''Was there ever a chance for me?''

Before she could decide how to proceed, laughing filled the room.

''I must say,'' the Seelie Queen purred from the doorway. ''I did wonder if you would actually be foolish enough to come to my realm.'' She strode into the room, a trail of guards after her.

Clary felt her heart go cold as the room filled. She tightened her grip on her sword. _And here's the trap. _

The Seelie Queen was grinning from ear to ear. ''How glad I am to get my revenge on not only the man who lied to me, but also his treacherous sister! And I am sure the Clave won't be at all pleased to lose two more Shadowhunters.''

Two? _Max._

Clary counted the guards. She was terribly outnumbered, but there was no way in Hell she was letting them get to Max. She readied her blade.

The first two guards lunged at her. She parried one and managed to kick the other. She could hear Jace's voice in her head instructing her. _Watch your stance. Don't leave your back exposed. _But another voice started echoing in her mind._ Downworlders play dirty._

Clary felt someone come up behind her and ducked just in time to avoid a cloud of magic. She swiped with her sword and the guard stumbled, their weapons clattering on the cavern floor.

Clary turned around and began fighting her way across the room. She was losing, she knew it. She was blocking another attack when she felt another person come up behind her, but she didn't have time to turn around.

_Clang. _Metal against metal rang in her ears, coming from behind her. She managed to throw off the guard in front of her. She turned and saw Jonathan, standing with his back to her.

He had picked up one of the fallen guards weapons. Looking at him, Clary hadn't thought he had had the strength to stand, much less fight. Not to mention she never expected his help. But now wasn't the time to be picky.

They managed to hold their own, but they were still outnumbered. Their only hope was to get to the tunnel and into the open. They fought their way to the center of the room before they made a run for it.

As she and Jonathan ran up the long tunnel, Clary knew they were playing into the Queen's hands. _She wants us to lead her to Max, _she thought. She hoped Max wouldn't be stupid and come out of hiding at the sight of them.

They kept up their speed, the guards footsteps echoing not far behind them. As they made it to the room with all the different tunnels, Clary realized more guards were coming up from the other tunnels as well. If they had been outnumbered before, they were hopeless now.

Jonathan and her burst out into the open. Clary was alarmed at the darkness. Surely she hadn't been down there that long? Maybe this place was a different time zone, she thought desperately. Otherwise when she and Max got home, they would be returning to panic.

But one problem at a time. She stopped running and turned to face to coming enemies.

Jonathan stood wordlessly beside her, clutching his blade. ''Max?'' he asked. Clary nodded. She didn't have time to draw a portal. Hopefully Max would hear the commotion and draw one while they fought.

A curious expression crossed Jonathan's face, but before Clary could decipher it, the faeries caught up to them and they were in battle again. Now that they were in the open it was easier, but the numbers remained. Clary knew they couldn't hold out for long.

''Clary!''

_Max, _Clary thought desperately. And there he was, approaching her and Jonathan, doing his best to fend off attackers with a dagger. But coming up behind him… _''Max!'' _

Clary screamed his name, but in a second he was colliding into her, thrown there. In his place stood Jonathan. Clary blinked; he was fast, but she didn't know that fast.

He stood with his back to them, his chest heaving with the effort. And then, to Clary's astonishment, slits began appearing on the back of his shirt.

Clary remembered the scars she had seen on his back, the whip marks from Valentine's punishments. She remembered thinking how their placement was perfect for wings.

Wings are what she saw sprout out of Jonathan's back. Each one was five feet long, easy. They were inky black, constructed of thousands of feathers. Jonathan had them spread out and they acted as a shield between Clary and Max and the faeries.

What happened next was a mystery to Clary. Light flashed. One second the world was cast in evening light and then it was bright. Very bright. Faeries screamed. Clary closed her eyes and clamped a hand over Max's face. Just as suddenly as the light came, it vanished, leaving the forest even darker than it was before.

When Clary opened her eyes the wings were gone. Jonathan grabbed her hand and she grabbed Max and they ran. They came to the place where Clary and Max had started and Clary saw with relief Max had already drawn the portal. ''There!''

Without stopping for breath, all three of them ran through.


	12. Failure At Follow Through

**Chapter 12**

They stumbled out of the portal. Jonathan immediately collapsed to his knees, using his hands to keep him from falling on his face. He hurt all over, but the new injuries on his back stung worse than all the others. _I can't remember the last time I used the wings, _he thought. _I didn't even know I still could. _He didn't dwell on it though. There were other questions to think of.

Jonathan managed to sit up, using an old crate as a support for his back. His mind flooded with pain. He dug his hand in the dirt, brining up a fistful of gravel in order to keep focused.

Clary and Max were across from him, catching their breath. Both looked mystified, though Max less so. ''We did it,'' he said, as if surprised at himself.

Clary looked at Jonathan from the corner of her eye. Jonathan wasn't good at guessing people's emotions, but he knew what she was thinking. _I didn't do it._

Clary had meant to kill him, he was sure of that. He hadn't believe she was real when she came into his cell. He had thought it was death coming to claim him- he supposed it had been in a way. If it weren't for the Queen and her guards, Clary probably would've have done the deed.

Jonathan tried to steady his breathing. His hand was starting to go numb from the rocks digging into his palm. He realized his back was wet- no doubt with more blood.

Clary managed to get to her feet. ''What now?''

If Jonathan needed anymore conformation he wasn't supposed to return with them, he got it. He was here, and they had no idea what to do.

Max frowned. ''I really don't know.''

Jonathan looked around. They were in an alley, probably in New York. As he cast his gaze around, he saw beyond the fence an old lot. _Really?_ ''How did you know?''

His voice sounded rough to his own ears. Clary took a moment before responding. ''Know what?''

Jonathan struggled to stand up, his entire body protesting. He pushed the pain away. ''Follow me.''

He didn't need to see Clary's face to know what she was thinking of that idea, but Jonathan didn't have the words to explain. It took all his effort to climb the chain link fence in front of them and hop over to the other side. Spots danced in his vision and he nearly collapsed.

He waited as Max and Clary hesitantly followed. Then he proceeded to lead them to the lot. Once there, he outstretched his hand, concentrating hard.

_Click. _The invisible lock opened and a door appeared in front of them. Without bothering to glance behind him, Jonathan entered the house. Valentine had had many places. He hadn't told Jonathan of all of them, but he did mention the one he had in New York. Jonathan wondered if this one was capable of travel.

It was smaller than the one he had used before. Two stories, a half bath to his right and a room doubling as a living room/dining room leading straight into a kitchen. He knew upstairs there was a bedroom and bathroom. Everything was updated, but it was modest by Valentine's standards. Jonathan looked at Clary as she stepped carefully over the threshold. ''I trust you won't blow this one up.''

He walked over to the couch, sitting down before he fell. He put his head in his hands as Clary and Max entered. He tuned everything out and focused on the pain.

His back hurt from using the wings. It felt like lightening had been running along his spine. There were also the injuries the Seelie Queen had inflicted. Various cuts and bruises and broken bones from all sorts of torture sessions. Two weeks as the Seelie Queen's Most Hated One had his body entirely worn out. And fighting the way he had defiantly hadn't helped.

Jonathan leaned back against the couch. His head pounded. He could feel any adrenaline he had had draining out of his system. He wanted to pass out. But he needed answers.

He looked up and saw Clary sitting on the floor across the couch, the coffee table between them. Footsteps on the stairs told him that Max went up, no doubt to look around and make sure nothing was here for him to use as a weapon.

Jonathan locked eyes with Clary. She didn't look away. ''Why?''

She replied quickly, expecting the question. ''Why what?''

''Why did you save me?''

Clary paused. She looked as thought she were listening to Max's footsteps upstairs. ''Max felt guilty.''

''Explains Max's motivation,'' Jonathan continued. ''But I asked why _you_ saved me.'' Clary stared at him, her face blank. ''You were going to kill me.''

Again, she paused, listening. ''I was interrupted.''

Jonathan reached over and picked up the blade he stole from one of the guards. Clary flinched. He turned it around and handed her the handle. ''No interruptions this time.'' Clary stared at the blade. Jonathon nodded to the staircase. ''Quick. Before he comes back.''

Clary looked from Jonathan to the blade. She shook her head. ''No.''

Jonathan laid the blade on the table. ''Why?'' Clary shook her head again. ''Clarissa-''

''_I don't know_,'' she hissed. She was trembling. ''I don't know.''

Jonathan stared at her numbly. Exhaustion was taking over him. He couldn't press for more. ''Fine,'' he said. He laid his head back against the cushions. Let what happens happen. He had learned long ago worrying about the future wouldn't change it…

….

Clary sent Max home. She and him left Jonathan in the house and went on their way. It wasn't terrible late, so they got back in plenty of time.

Max ran down to the institute happily. ''Thank you, Clary,'' he said. He had been a little worried about leaving Jonathan in the state he had been in, but clearly had decided to trust Clary's judgement. As Clary watched him go home, he seemed as if a weight had been lifted off his chest.

_And now it's on mine._

She hadn't been able to kill him. Even when he offered her the blade she couldn't do it. It wasn't just because of Max. The way he had been in the cell, the way he had looked at her in the living room…

There was also the voice that had warned her in the battle, and Jonathan asking how she knew about the safe house. She didn't know- she had just picked that location because it was out of the way and close to the Institute. Clary felt sick with worry. _I don't understand what's happening._

''Clary!''

Clary turned around and saw Jace running towards her. She stopped so he could catch up. ''Are you alright?'' He asked. ''Max came back but you-'' he saw the expression on her face. ''Is everything okay?''

Clary shook her head. ''I couldn't do it,'' she admitted. She told him everything, leaving out the parts she had been previously fretting about.

Jace took the news in silence. ''So he's alive?''

Clary nodded. ''I'm sorry. I couldn't do it, even when he offered in the living room. I-'' she broke off in frustration.

''Clary,'' Jace said softly. ''Do you really think- I mean, everything we worried about before. With Max and the Clave and now the Seelie Queen. What should we do?''

Clary sat down on a bench. She forced herself to concentrate. ''I don't think we have to worry about the Seelie Queen,'' she said. ''She can't exactly tell the Clave Jonathan's is alive without slipping she knew for weeks. It would put her kingdom in too much trouble. More than they are already in. As for Max…'' she sighed. ''I don't think we can kill Jonathan now without him finding out it was us.''

Jace nodded. ''And if the Clave catches wind of this…''

''It will be bad.'' Jace sat down next to her and she buried her face in his shoulder. He stroked her hair.

''Clary,'' he said softly. ''I have to ask. Do you think Max is right? That Jonathan is capable of being…well, human?''

Clary closed her eyes and saw her brother's face in the cell again._ 'Just tell me… Was there ever a chance for me?'_

''I don't know.''


	13. Wishing

**Chapter 13**

Jonathan never understood the concept of wishing for things. If you wanted something badly, then you had to go and get it yourself. Wishing was pointless. But now, as he laid on the couch unable to move, he understood the concept. Wishing for something was essential saying _'I'd very much like to do this thing(s) if only I were able to.' _At least, that was the sentiment Jonathan was expressing. For example, he wished he could take a shower, change his clothes, eat, or drink something. But since he lacked the ability to do/get those things, all he could do was wish for them.

Since he heard Clary usher Max out, Jonathan had only managed to shift his position on the couch from vertical to horizontal, and even that small movement left him breathless. The pain he had been trying to manage since first ending up in the Queen's cells was finally overtaking him, forcing his body to remain motionless.

So for hours Jonathan laid on the couch, drifting in and out of consciousness. Every now and then he'd noticed the light change, going from bright to dark and back again. He wondered if he was going to die right here on the sofa. He thought about the possibility of Clary ever coming back, and if she did, the chances of her helping him or simply letting nature take it's course.

_'__I don't know.'_

What kind of answer was that? It should be simple. Either _'yes, I want to kill you, murdering, rapist brother of mine' _or _'no, I don't want to kill you, murdering, rapist brother of mine'_. Not '_I don't know'_. Clary was many things, Jonathan thought, but indecisive of whether or not she wanted him alive? That didn't sound like a grey area for her.

_Then again, it's not like I know her well._

These were the only coherent thoughts Jonathan had in his head. As the second night since arriving at the house dawned, his mind was less interested in his sister's strange answer and more interested in how to escape the pain racking his body.

There were his injuries from the Queen herself: bruises and cuts and broken bones that probably needed tending to. There was also the slits on his back from his wings that definitely needed to be treated. But there was another pain in addition to these, and ache running from his heart through his veins causing him to curl in on himself, which made his other injuries burn.

_Withdrawal._

The word sounded in his mind, and Jonathan vaguely understood what was happening. For years, he had been part demon. Demon blood had been flowing through his veins in addition to Nephilim blood. However, he wasn't a demon, but was Nephilim. His birth was akin to that of a baby whose mother drank and did drugs while pregnant. His body was used to a certain substance, and now being back at life without it, had no idea how to function.

_I need help._

Help? From who? It had been two days. Clearly Clary wasn't going to come back here. Maybe she had decided that she wanted him dead and figured this was the best way to do it. This seemed especially likely considering Max didn't seem to want him dead.

_Max. _That's right. In the forest, he had managed to communicate with Max. _'Make a portal. Quick.' _The kid had heard. Jonathan had that ability with certain people. How he had it with Max he wasn't sure. Maybe the Angels had something to do with it. But Jonathan knew he could contact certain people with his mind if they cast some sort of spell. He did it with someone once…

_Please help me._

Once he sent out the message, Jonathan felt stupid. _She's probably dead, _he thought. The world went dark on him again, eerily similar to the cave in Hell.

….

''Good morning, Resurrected One.''

Jonathan felt the hardness of the floor under him. Either he rolled off the couch or had been moved. Possibly the later with the method of the former. He opened his eyes slowly, looking up into the brown eyes of the girl leaning over him. ''Hello, Celeste.''

Celeste smiled. ''You look like crap,'' she said sweetly. She got to her feet and turned into the kitchen, her blonde hair sweeping behind her.

Jonathan managed to sit up. He felt like crap, but it was an improvement to how he had felt before. He noticed he was shirtless and could feel tight bandages on his back and legs. ''I didn't think I would reach you,'' he called into the kitchen.

''I nearly didn't answer.'' Celeste walked back towards him, a glass of water in her hands. She handed it to him before sitting on the couch, which was somehow free of blood. ''I figured it must have been some trick since I thought for sure you were dead.''

Jonathan greedily drank the water before answering. ''I was.''

Celeste put her chin on her hands, leaning eagerly forward. ''Oh, do tell.''

''No.'' He put the cup down and leaned against the coffee table. ''Not until I know how things are going to turn out.''

''How do you want them to turn out?''

Jonathan let out a cold laugh, which quickly turned into a cough. ''I have no freaking clue.''

Celeste studied him strangely. ''You're not a demon anymore.''

The strange feeling inside of Jonathan tightened. ''I know.''

''Hmm.'' Whatever Celeste was thinking, she didn't share. ''Well,'' she said, getting up quickly. ''I'll be around if you need me. I just hope you won't be getting in the way of those Shadowhunter's again. You do know this is the city with your sister in it?''

Jonathan nodded numbly. ''I'm aware.''

….

Back and forth. Pacing first the length of the room, than the width. Back and forth and back and forth. Clary was grateful the apartment was all one floor, and that they had no neighbors occupying the place below her room. Otherwise complaints would be given about the constant nightly shuffling.

Clary had tried everything. She tried not thinking about it. She tried writing down everything that felt wrong and work out a solution. She tried distracting herself with training. She considered telling Jace or her mother what was wrong, but what stopped her was she didn't know what to say.

All Clary knew was that she felt wrong. She was just a bundle of nerves. Anxiety had a whole new meaning for her the past couple of days. The desire to chalk it up to being that Jonathan was alive and in the city was strong, but Clary knew it wasn't that. Or really, it wasn't _just_ that.

Her dreams had gotten worse, more images of that room with the man waiting expectantly, and the boy with no pupils. Voices whispering to her, and that rune flashing in front of her face: _Remembrance._

When she wasn't disturbed by those things, she kept thinking of Jonathan. _'No interruptions this time.' _Why hadn't she been able to kill him? Why didn't she _want_ to kill him?

_Remembrance._

Clary thought- no, she _knew_\- that the rune flashing in front of her face in stark red wasn't really a rune for remembering. She didn't know how nor why she would be thinking of a rune and word that didn't match up. Maybe if she remembered something, she'd know what the red rune's meaning was.

But remember what? Her memories from when Magnus took her sight? Maybe she had seen something that day when she and Simon were supposed to go to the comic book store, something that had happened in her apartment that had her mother so upset. _But what?_

It was as if she had a ballon in her chest. Every day, every second, it got bigger and bigger. Soon it would pop. When it did it would hurt, but it would be gone. Clary would be free. _Knowing is always better._

_But know what?_

Faster she paced, She wanted to cry. To scream. To do something to make her heart stop pounding in her ears. She needed a rune.

Before she could lose the nerve, Clary turned to her desk and flipped open her sketch book. Still standing, she picked up a pencil. She remembered saying once that she couldn't use create a rune, she had to be inspired. Truth was, she had never really tried.

For a moment Clary just stared at the page. The blank white page, full of endless possibilities. Then she forced her hand down and drew.

Harsh lines. Thick lines. A diamond here, a star here. Spiraling up the page and then a sharp diagonal down. Faster she drew. Harder. Her anger, her pain, her annoyance she poured into the page. It wasn't working. It would never work.

_If you have no advantage, make one._

There was that voice again, the same one that had coached her in the battle in the cells. Throwing her pencil down, Clary grabbed her stele. _Sometimes to get things right, we just need to be motivated. _She sunk to her knees. Pressing down hard, Clary drew on to her skin.

The stele burned. The harsh strokes she made on the paper were now copied onto her arm. Suddenly the shapes didn't seem so out of place. The harder she drew, the bigger the ballon in her chest grew. Until suddenly-

_Remembrance._

Clary threw the stele down, barely registering the sound of it hitting the hardwood floor. She had to shove her fist in her mouth to keep from screaming. Blood flowed from the mark on her arm, dripping down her arm onto the floor. But she didn't care. The ballon in her chest popped, and like she figured, it hurt like hell.

But know she knew. Now she knew what she had forgotten. And now she knew what she had to do to get those memories back.

**Me: If there are any silent readers out there, I hope you are enjoying the story. I sure am enjoying writing it! I have the next chapter ready and I really love it. I would love to hear any feedback you have to offer, but understand if you can't review and/or feel uncomfortable leaving a review. Nevertheless, I hope you are enjoying!**

**Happy Writing! **


	14. Discovered

**Me: To the person who just reviewed- thank you. It means so much that you like this story. I hope you will enjoy this chapter!**

**Chapter 14**

Luke and Jocelyn were careful to enter the apartment quietly. It was late, far later than they had intended to stay out. ''Do you think Clary's still awake?'' Jocelyn asked, turning on the light in the living room.

''I doubt it,'' Luke replied honestly. He took Jocelyn's coat and bag and hung them up. When he turned back, he saw his wife's face etched with worry. How quickly she could go from enjoying herself to fretting. ''I'm sure she's fine.''

''Hasn't she seemed off these past couple days?'' Jocelyn asked as Luke urged her further into the house.

Luke shrugged. ''Maybe a little,'' he admitted.

''A little? She always looks so downcast. She spends hours in her room-'' Luke held up his hands placatingly. ''Sorry.''

''Clary's had a lot on her plate,'' Luke reminded Jocelyn. ''It's been a hell of a year for her.'' Jocelyn got that guilty look in her eyes and looked down the hallway. ''You want me to check on her?''

''No, I will.'' Jocelyn took a step forward before turning back. She kissed Luke. ''Did I say how much I enjoyed tonight?''

''No.'' Luke sniffed with feigned offense. ''You didn't.''

''Well, I did.''

Luke let out a small chuckle before kissing her again. ''God, you Fray women and your ability to get lost in your heads.''

Jocelyn made a face and pushed him away playfully. She then walked down the hallway to Clary's room.

Luke took his car keys out of his pocket and tossed them on the counter. He was just preparing to go down the hall to shower when he heard Jocelyn's sharp intake of breath. ''_Luke!_''

Luke was at her side in a minute. She was standing in the doorway to Clary's room, looking inside with horror on her face. Luke followed her gaze and felt his heart stop.

A few days ago, Luke had commented to Clary how well her new room was coming along. Now, it was impossible to tell that Clary had made any progress on organizing. The place was trashed. Everything from the clothes in the closet to the books she had put on the shelves were tossed about, thrown there in a fit of rage. Pages and pages of Clary's sketches were on the floor, crumpled and ripped. One sketchbook in particular had had all of it's paper torn out, and was now lying discarded on the unmade bed. But what was most disconcerting, and what Jocelyn was staring at in terror, was the red pool of liquid on the floor by the desk.

Swallowing his anxiety, Luke carefully entered the room. Paper crunched under his feet. He approached the spot on the floor, the smell already confirming it was blood. _But is it Clary's blood?_

The room smelled of Clary. Luke hoped against hope that he would catch a whiff of a stranger's scent so there something to go on and hunt for. His heart sank as no such moment came. He bent down to the puddle of blood. He couldn't be 100% certain, but as he didn't smell another person, in all likelihood it was Clary's blood.

''Call the Institute,'' Luke said to Jocelyn. ''Maybe Jace knows where she-'' he stopped as he noticed a piece of paper on the desk, strangely untouched amidst the chaos of the room.

''Luke?'' Jocelyn asked. Luke ignored her. He stood up and picked up the paper off the desk, studying the design. It looked like a rune. A rune he didn't recognize.

''Call Magnus,'' Luke amended. Strange runes meant magic, and magic was the High Warlock of Brooklyn's department.

…..

Alec rolled over in his sleep, his arm reaching for Magnus. There was nothing there. ''Hmm?''

He opened his eyes and blinked the sleep from them, focusing on his boyfriend who was standing by the window, the phone to his ear. He clicked it off as Alec sat up. ''Well, look who left their phone on this time,'' he said smugly. His expression fell as Magnus' somber face turned to look at him. ''What's wrong?''

''That was Jocelyn,'' Magnus answered.

''Clary's mother?''

''Yes. Clary's missing and she asked me to come with a locator spell.'' Alec gaped as Magnus began digging around for his supplies. ''She wants you to call Jace and ask if he's seen her. She doesn't have his number.''

Alec snapped out of his shock and sprung out of bed, throwing on his clothes and dialing his phone in record time. The phone rang three times before Jace answered. ''Yeah?''

Alec frowned at his voice. ''You sound breathless.'' _Better not be doing what I think you are. ''_What are you doing?''

''Training.''

_Thank god, _Alec thought with relief, then felt guilt for thinking so. If Jace had been doing what he thought, at least they'd know where Clary was. ''It's four o'clock in the freakin' morning,'' he continued, his angry big brother voice on.

''Which makes me curious as to why you're calling.''

Alec braced himself for the yelling. ''Do you know where Clary is?''

''Home?''

''No.''

''What the hell do you mean, _no_?''

''Get over to Jocelyn's. Now.''

''Alec-''

''Magnus and I are going there too. All I know is Clary's gone and Jocelyn asked us there. Now hurry up. Don't wake Max and Izzy.'' Alec hung up and joined Magnus in the other room.

Magnus glanced at him worriedly. ''Ready?''

Alec spread his hands. ''Guess so.''

…..

Contrary to Alec's orders, Jace did wake Isabelle and Max. He repeated Alec's explanation to them and soon they were on their way to Clary's house.

All the worst case scenarios were spinning in Jace's head. He tried to rationalize that they really didn't know anything yet, but the fact that Jocelyn had called Magnus in the middle of the night for a locater spell said it all really. Jace kept thinking of Jonathan. _I'll kill him myself. _

There was no way it could be a coincidence: Clary disappearing and that bastard being alive. They had to be connected. And yet, Jace wanted to be wrong. He didn't want to go another round with Jonathan Morgenstern.

They entered the apartment building moments after Magnus and Alec. ''I said _don't_ wake them!'' Alec said to Jace as he saw all three of his siblings.

''Excuse me?'' Isabelle said, hands on her hips.

Jace gestured to Max. ''We weren't going to leave him home.''

''Yeah,'' Max said, making as though he were talking aloud to himself. ''It's not like I would want to be informed that a friend is missing.''

Alec had the decency to look ashamed. ''Sorry, Max.''

Magnus continued walking up the steps. ''Can we get a move on, please?''

When they got to Clary's apartment, Luke opened the door. He blinked as he saw them all. ''Uh-''

''Oh god,'' Magnus said bitterly. ''Yes, we all saw fit to come. Apparently we do everything together! Can we get on with this?'' Luke smartly kept all comments to himself and let them in.

''In her room,'' Luke said, showing Magnus the way. The rest of them followed, staying awkwardly in the hall as Luke spoke primarily to Magnus. Jace processed the sight of Clary's messed up room. It didn't look as if there had been a fight, but more as if it had been torn apart in anger.

_Clary, what happened?_

''Then there was this on the desk,'' Jocelyn was saying, handing Magnus a piece of paper. Magnus frowned at it.

''I don't know this rune.'' He studied it for a few more seconds before tossing it to Alec in the doorway. ''Have a look.'' He then went about preparing for a locator spell.

Alec studied the drawing. He wrinkled his nose at it. ''Not her best work,'' he commented before handing it to Isabelle.

''Rough draft?'' Isabelle guessed. She handed it to Jace. ''Did she ever mention a rune idea she wanted to try?''

Jace shook his head as he looked at the paper. Most of it was scribbles, as if Clary had lost her patience with the drawing. But darker lines ran along on the center of the page, making a faint outline against the shaded areas. Shapes danced inside it.

Max stood on tip toe next to Jace. ''My turn.''

Jace handed him the paper, his interest in it gone. The only person who would know how it could be helpful was Clary. And obviously, she wasn't here.

Jace turned his attention back to Clary's room and noticed Magnus getting frustrated. Just as he was about to excuse himself to go and see, he noticed Max. ''Max?'' He asked. The youngest Lightwood was looking at the paper in horror. ''Max, is there something-''

Magnus strode out of the room. ''Locator spell won't work,'' he announced. ''Something's keeping her from being tracked. Anyone got any bright ideas as to where she would go?''

Jace felt everyone look to him, but he was still looking at Max. ''Max, do you know this picture?''

Max looked at Jace uncomfortably. He noticed everyone else was watching them now too. He took a hesitant breath. ''I've seen it before. In my dreams…''

_His dreams of Jonathan. _Jace remembered Clary telling him that Max saw Jonathan in the Seelie Court. Any hope that Jonathan wasn't involved in this melted away.

But nobody else knew, and they all looked at Max expectantly. ''What did you dream about it, Max?'' Isabelle asked.

Max looked at Jace. _He doesn't know I know, _Jace remembered. _He's trying to steel his nerves to tell me._

Max bit his lip and looked to Luke and Jocelyn. ''Do you think Clary's in danger?'' He asked.

Jocelyn looked at Max with gentleness. ''If you think you know something, Max,'' she said. ''Please tell me.''

Max took a deep breath. He looked to the floor. ''I dreamed about this mark because someone else was thinking about it. I don't know what it means, but he might.''

''Who?'' Alec asked.

Max paused before answering. His gaze went to Jace before settling on Clary's mother. ''Your son, Jonathan Morgenstern.''

**Happy Writing! **


	15. Visiting Morgenstern

**Me: To **_mermaid12108- _**Thanks for taking the time to review! I'm glad you enjoyed Max and Alec and hope you like the rest of the story as well.**

**Chapter 15**

The room felt like it was going to explode.

Jocelyn looked as though she wanted to faint. Luke instinctively grabbed Jocelyn's arm. Izzy and Alec both exclaimed _What? _and Magnus let out a single breath of 'Oh, hell.'

Max looked like he wanted to cry as he recounted his story. Jace considered himself lucky that everyone was focused on Max, otherwise they might've noticed his lack of response at the news.

While Max explained, Jace's mind was reeling with ideas. If Jonathan was responsible for this, what did he want? What magic was he using that made it so Magnus couldn't track Clary? And how did he manage to cover his tracks so that Luke couldn't sense another person had even been in the room?

Jace snapped back to the conversation as he heard Max stop talking. ''Where is he, Max?'' Alec growled. He was shaking. _He wants to kill Jonathan, _Jace thought. He was glad.

Max interpreted the look on Alec's face as well. ''I don't think he did this!'' he protested.

''Max,'' Isabelle said sharply. ''You of all people know what Sebastian-''

''He's not Sebastian anymore!'' Max shouted.

''You don't know-''

''Yes I do!'' Max stomped his foot in anger. ''Do you honestly think I would've let him out if I thought he was the same person who killed me and hurt everyone? Do you think Clary would?'' Max was trembling in anger. ''She decided to rescue him-''

''That doesn't make it a good idea!''

''Stop!'' Jocelyn's voice cut through them all like iron. They all froze as they waited for her to speak again. She had face buried in her hands, but she straightened as she spoke. Her face was pale. ''Max, do you know where Jonathan is?'' She asked carefully. Max nodded. ''Will you please show us?''

Max looked about the room. It didn't take a genius to know the word _murder _was on all their minds. ''Not everyone,'' he whispered.

Jocelyn nodded. ''Of course not,'' she replied. ''But would you show Jace, Alec, and Izzy? If they don't mind?'' She looked at them and they nodded willingly.

''Now hang on-'' Magnus protested.

''Jonathan will most likely talk to Jace,'' Jocelyn replied simply to Magnus. ''Alec and Izzy will be there to protect him. Alec will call you with the location but you will stay back. Luke and I will stay here and if they are not back within _two hours_, you call us and we will take it from there.'' The meaning of _take it from there _was clear enough that even Max flinched. ''The important thing,'' Jocelyn went on, ''is that we find Clary.'' She looked at Max. ''Are we agreed?'' Max nodded.

….

Their orders received, Max lead them to the lot Clary had described. Jace, Isabelle, and Max waited as Alec paused to inform Magnus over the phone.

Isabelle paced impatiently. The angry, nervous energy she was giving off only increased Jace's own discomfort. Max was looking at his feet. He hadn't been able to bring himself to meet anyone's eyes since they left the apartment. ''Hey.''

Max turned to Jace to show he was listening. _He feels guilty, _Jace remembered Clary saying. Jace felt momentary shame at the way they all reacted to the news. Max had only been trying to be a good person and give Jonathan a second chance. He had given the benefit of the doubt. It wasn't right for them to hold it against him. ''I'm sorry, Max.''

To Jace's amazement, Max bristled. ''Don't do that,'' he snapped angrily. ''Don't paint me as some sort of poor, manipulated kid. _I_ did the manipulating. I manipulated the Angels, Jonathan, Clary- hell, I manipulated_ you_.''

Jace blinked. He was a little startled to hear his little brother curse for the first time. ''Wait, when did you manipulate me?''

''With Lilith,'' Max said.

Jace felt cold at the memory. He remembered that dream in the Silent City, of Max sitting in front of him… ''That wasn't you.''

''Yes, it was.'' Max glared defiantly.

''You were being influenced by a demon, Max.''

''Oh, so that argument works for me but not Jonathan? Your brother, but not Clary's?'' Jace was spared responding to that when Alec came back over.

''Ready?'' He asked.

Jace nodded, glad for the interruption. Max took a breath to compose himself. He reached out into thin air and made a fist, like he was holding a doorknob. _Click._

Max swung the door opened and walked inside. His siblings followed.

Jace glanced at the surroundings, looking for any sign of Clary. His eyes fell straight ahead beyond the counter that acted as a divider between kitchen and living room. On the other side, leaning against the back counter top, was Jonathan.

Jace felt bile rise in his throat. He hated him. He hated him _so_ much.

Jonathan looked confused at the sight of them all. ''Well,'' he said, placing the glass of water he had been holding down beside him. ''To what do I owe the pleasure?''

Jace managed to keep his voice level. ''Where's Clary?'' he demanded.

Jonathan continued to look confused. ''I'll be honest with you and say I've never been one for hide-and-seek.''

''Tell us now,'' Isabelle said with a voice as sharp as her whip, ''And we might consider killing you quickly.''

A brief emotion flashed across Jonathan's face, but before Jace could decipher it, Max spoke. ''Guys, stop! I don't think he did it.''

''Did what?'' Jonathan asked. ''What about Clarissa?''

''Yes he did, Max.'' Alec looked at his little brother with sympathy. ''I don't know what he told you-''

''Ugh!'' Max threw his hands up in the air. ''_Will you stop it?_''

''I don't suppose anyone would mind filling me in on why you are all in my house?'' Jonathan drummed his fingers on the counter. ''That is, if you are done being all patronizing.''

''You took Clary,'' Jace said.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. ''I did?''

''Do you deny it?''

''I don't know.'' Jonathan looked to Alec. ''Do I deny it?''

Alec looked like he wanted to leap across the counter and punch Jonathan. Max held him back. ''Jonathan, have you seen Clary?'' he asked.

''Your family seems to think I have.''

''But did you?''

Jonathan was silent as he looked at first Jace, and then Alec and Isabelle. Jace's patience was getting thiner by the second. ''What do you think, Maxy?'' He said finally. ''Did I see Clary?''

Max was quiet for a second. ''I don't think you did,'' he admitted quietly.

Isabelle let out an angry sigh. ''Max…''

''Interesting,'' Jonathan said, ''You don't believe him.''

''You still haven't answered the question,'' Alec reminded him.

Jonathan shrugged. ''If you won't believe your own brother, why would you believe me?''

Jace's patience had reached the end. In a swift movement he was across the room and standing in front of Jonathan, his hand on his throat. Jonathan made to brush him off but Jace had the element of surprise. He dig his fingers into the other's neck. ''_Where is Clary?''_

Jonathan had to gasp for breath. _''I don't know,'' _he hissed.

''Jace, please!'' Max cried.

Jace ignored Max, considering Jonathan's response. His green eyes dug into Jace, a trace of amusement in them. _Go on, do it, _they seem to taunt. Jace kept his grip tight on Jonathan's neck for a few more seconds before letting go and stepping back. Jonathan turned around to gag into the sink.

He straightened up and brushed his mouth with the back of his hand. It came away red, but Jace didn't pay any attention. ''I don't know if Max here has told you,'' Jonathan said with a glare as he composed himself. ''But I've just returned from a rather taxing vacation. I'm not exactly in fighting shape. So even if I were to do something to Clarissa, I wouldn't exactly be a match for her.'' He smiled. ''Unless you all think she is an easy opponent?''

Jace looked to Alec and Isabelle, who were still glaring at Jonathan. One look and he knew they too weren't convinced.

Jonathan coughed again. His fingers tightened on the countertop. ''I haven't left this house since coming here with Max and Clarissa,'' he continued. ''Haven't had the strength to go upstairs, let alone make my way to the werewolf's bookstore.''

All of them had the same reaction to that last sentence. ''Werewolf's bookstore?'' Isabelle asked carefully.

Jonathan waved his hand. ''Bookstore, porn shop- whatever you call that hovel.'' He raised an eyebrow at their expressions. ''That's where Clarissa lives, isn't it? With the wolf and her mother?''

Jace sighed impatiently as Max smiled in triumph. ''Told ya,'' he said. Jonathan looked confused as to what proved his innocence, but nobody offered to inform him of Clary's recent move. Jace considered the possibility of Jonathan lying while Max dug in his pocket for Clary's drawing. ''Do you know what this is?'' He asked, handing the paper to Jace across the kitchen counter, who then held it up for Jonathan.

Jonathan took the paper and frowned at it. ''No,'' he said. ''Why?''

''I've seen you think of it,'' Max explained.

''Yes, and while on that subject,'' Alec cut in. ''Why is our brother dreaming of you and seeing your thoughts?''

''I make a good impression?'' As they all glared at him, Jonathan went on, ''Ask the Angels. For some reason, they established a mind link between us. I've done it before with people. Basically, Maxy and I have our own little private chat room.'' He smiled again. ''You don't like?''

''Dissolve it.''

''Sure! Just get me a knife and I'll cut the server right out of his head.''

''How about I-''

''Alec!'' Max snapped. He turned back to Jonathan. ''The picture?''

Jonathan shrugged again. ''If I've seen it before, I don't remember. Is it one of Clarissa's runes?''

''How do you know that?'' Jace demanded. Jonathan held up his hands calmly.

''Just trying to put the pieces together, brother dear.''

''Don't call me that.'' Jonathan smiled, the kind of smile that made Jace think his eyes were about to flash black. Jace had reached his limit of being able to stomach being in his presence. He snatched the paper back and crumpled it into his fist. He walked back around the counter. ''Let's go, guys.''

Alec caught his arm. ''What about…?'' he whispered.

''What about what, Alec?'' Max asked accusingly.

Alec bit his lip and looked at Jonathan, who had propped his chin on his hand to give the appearance of being interested in what Alec was about to say. ''Nothing,'' Alec finished.

Isabelle grabbed Max's shoulder and guided him out the door. ''Lovely visit!'' Jonathan called after them all. ''Let's not do it again anytime soon!''

**Me: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you can, please leave a review! **


	16. A Phone Call From Simon

**Me:****Thanks to the guest reviewer who said Jonathan was them after seeing their relatives- same here! **

**Chapter 16**

''-And that's all that happened,'' Isabelle concluded.

They had returned per their orders to Jocelyn's and Luke's home. Isabelle finished informing of them their fruitless conversation with Jonathan while Alec helped Magnus search for a different sort of spell.

Jace drummed his fingers on the countertop, his mind racing. What if Jonathan was lying about not knowing of the move? It was possible, though to say so would risk Max getting in an uproar. Jace glanced over at him by Isabelle, listening as she recounted their story. He didn't look at Jocelyn.

Jace sighed with impatience. He hated to admit it, but Max could be right in that Jonathan wasn't responsible. For a guy back from the dead, Jonathan had looked the part. Jace really didn't think Jonathan could've taken Clary in a fight. Plus, there was the fact they had no evidence that anyone else had been in Clary's room. But then that meant Clary left on her own. _But the blood on the floor…_

A cell phone's ringing suddenly rang through the apartment, making everyone jump. Jace was just about to yell for whoever's it was to pick up, when he realized it was his own phone ringing. _Please be Clary, _he thought as he reached for it in his pocket. He frowned as he saw the caller.

Everyone's eyes were on him as he answered. ''Simon?'' Jace asked in confusion. He was startled to hear heavy gasping on the other end. ''Simon? What's wrong?''

It took Simon a moment to respond. _''It's- it's about Clary…''_

….

Simon had thought it would be a normal day- well, as normal as things ever got in the Shadowhunter Academy. But he knew that would not be the case when he was walking down the street and pulled into an alley.

The person who grabbed him pushed him against the wall so as to suddenly get him out of sight. Before Simon could attack, he recognized the red hair and green eyes of the girl looking at him. ''Clary?''

''Hi,'' said Clary with a grin. ''How are you doing, Simon?''

Simon had to breath for a few seconds while he tried to shake the momentary feeling of fear. He then had to breath a few seconds more to contain his anger. ''Is that how you greet people?''

''Yep.'' Clary removed her hands from Simon's shoulders. ''Sorry, it's just- well, I don't want anyone else to know I'm here. So I thought I'd be discreet.''

''Here's a tip, Fray: Shoving a guy into an alleyway is not in any scenario _'discreet'_.''

Clary gave a half-hearted shrug. ''No one noticed, did they?''

''That's because my friends suck.'' Simon straightened up from the wall. As he brushed himself off, he noticed how _disheveled_ Clary looked. Her hair was messily braided, her clothes rumpled. There was a strange brightness to her eyes. ''Are you okay?''

''Huh?'' Clary looked confused by the question. ''Oh, yeah! Of course!" She said. She moved her left hand to grasp her arm.

Simon followed her hand's movement. ''What happened?'' he asked in alarm as he noticed the bandage wrapped around her forearm. It looked hastily done.

''Nothing,'' Clary assured him. ''Stupid accident.''

Simon wasn't convinced. He shook his head. ''Clary, is everything okay? I mean, you look like crap, you show up here, don't want anyone to know- does Jocelyn even know you're here?''

Clary opened her mouth to respond, but seemed to think better of it. ''It's a long story,'' she admitted. She brightened, seemly thinking of something. ''I'm starving. You?''

…

They bought some sandwiches from a nearby shop. As they trekked to find a spot to eat, Simon felt anxiety eating up at him. Even with his memory being spotty, he was pretty sure he knew Clary well enough to know something was wrong, and that suddenly showing up unannounced, presumably without her mother's and friend's knowledge, was entirely out of character for her.

They walked out of town. ''Where are we going?'' Simon asked.

''Lake Lyn,'' Clary responded. She smiled at Simon's expression. ''I'll make a portal. It's pretty there. I want to see it again.''

Simon fell silent as Clary carved a portal by a nearby tree. The anxious feeling inside him grew, yelling at him that _this was not a good idea, _but he had no reason to protest. There was something so very off about Clary that Simon didn't feeling comfortable objecting. As long as she told him what was wrong, what did it matter if it happened at Lake Lyn or anywhere?

They entered the portal and soon saw the lake spread out before them. ''Rather close, aren't we?'' Simon asked as he noticed the sand by his feet.

''It's fine.'' Clary sat down on the grass and unwrapped her sandwich. Simon followed suit. As he took a bite, he noticed Clary twirling the plastic wrap with her fingers, not even looking at the food.

''I thought you were starving?''

Clary bit her lip and put the sandwich on her lap. ''Simon,'' she began carefully. ''How much of your memories have you remembered?''

Simon swallowed hard. He didn't like thinking about all the gaps in his mind, or really, not even gaps. Just things he remembered wrong. As time went on, it wasn't as if he forgot things, but as if he hadn't thought about them in a long while. It was annoying and frustrating. ''I dunno. Some things. Why?''

Clary drummed her fingers on her knee. ''Do you remembered Forbidden Planet?''

''The comic book store?'' Simon was bewildered at the direction the conversation was taking. It seemed to common and inconsequential for how Clary was acting. ''Yeah, of course.''

''Do you remember us going there? The first time?''

Simon nodded. ''I do, as a matter of fact.'' He laughed at the memory. ''God forbid you ever leave your sketch book behind.'' He stopped laughing as he noticed Clary stiffen. ''What?''

''I went back in the house,'' Clary said softly. ''I went to get my bag. But Simon- I never came back out.''

Simon blinked. ''Of course you did,'' he said. He was a little alarmed at the look on Clary's face. She spoke as if this were a sad but undeniable fact. ''Of course you did,'' he repeated himself. ''We went to the store, didn't we?''

''On that same day?'' Clary looked at him blankly.

Simon cast around in his mind, searching for some detail to prove that this was so. But he came up with nothing. ''Okay, so I'm not the best person for fact checking,'' he reminded her. ''But what does it matter?''

Clary turned her gaze back to the lake, tracing her fingers in the dirt. ''When I first came to Idris,'' she said. ''I was thrown into the lake. Luke said it was because of the wards. But I wonder…'' She trailed off, and Simon got the impression she was talking more to herself than him. ''He didn't want me in the lake either…''

''Who didn't?''

''Valentine.'' Before Simon could press for more, Clary stood suddenly. ''It should be a multiple of seven,'' she said quickly. ''Seven is considered a good number or something. Seven years of famine, plenty, seven plagues- or was it ten?''

''What the hell are you talking about?'' Simon asked in alarm.

Clary ignored him. ''Doesn't matter. Seven is good.''

''For what?''

''Seven _minutes_ is to long.'' Clary bit her lip. In the bright sunlight, her face looked pale. The strange glint in her eyes Simon had noticed before seemed even more prominent now. ''Seven _seconds _to short. A multiple of seven- 63 seconds. A minute and then some. Should be enough.'' She turned her gaze back to Simon. ''Give me 63 seconds.''

''Clary.'' Simon got to his feet slowly. ''I don't know what's wrong, but you are kinda freaking me out right now.''

Clary didn't acknowledge Simon's concern. Her green eyes bored right into him. She definitely looked crazy. ''You have your watch?''

''What?'' Instinctively, Simon glanced at his wrist. His digital wristwatch was there, counting the hours, minutes, and seconds. ''Yeah, but why…?''

''63 seconds,'' Clary said again. She then started walking toward the water.

Simon suddenly understood. ''No!'' he screamed, making a grab for Clary. But he couldn't move his feet. He looked down and saw what Clary had traced in the dirt. A rune, glowing red around him. ''Clary!''

Clary cast a glance over her shoulder. ''63 seconds,'' she reminded him. ''That's all I need.''

''You will die!'' Simon screamed, yanking helplessly at his stuck feet. Unsuccessful, he looked up again and saw Clay at the water's edge. ''Clary!''

Clary paused at the water's edge for moment before wading in. Each step she took made Simon's heart skip a beat. She must have reached the deep part of the lake, because one second she was above the water and the next her head disappeared under it. ''_Clary!''_

Simon yanked his legs with more strength. Just as he was about to take out his knife and cut his boots off, his feet were suddenly free. He went tearing toward the water, stopping at the shore. His head was torn with indecision. _63 seconds, _she had said. Simon wanted to jump into the water and drag her out, but what if she just tried again? He glanced at his watch.

_45 seconds._

_Fray, I swear to God if you die…._

_50 seconds._

_Please, please be okay._

_60 seconds._

_God, please…_

_63._

Simon ran out into the lake, screaming and crashing through the waves. With his feet he felt the ledge run out. As he was preparing to dive down, something grabbed his arm and pulled themselves up.

Simon dragged Clary to the shore. He alternating between screaming and crying as she coughed up water. Collapsing onto the shore, Simon realized he was shaking. ''I should fucking _kill you, Fray!'' _

Clary spit out a mouthful of water. ''Sorry,'' she murmured, sitting up and looking at him. Her swim in the poisonous water did nothing to help her sickly disposition.

''_Sorry?_'' Simon echoed. It took all his willpower not to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. ''_What were you thinking?'_'

''Nothing.'' Before Simon could respond with _duh, _Clary continued. ''That's why I went in. I needed to think. I needed clarity.''

Simon needed to remind himself to breath. ''Most people meditate. Have cup of coffee. Journal. But no, you _take a swim in deathly water!_''

Clary coughed again. She brought her braids over her shoulder and wrung them out. ''Relax,'' she said in a hoarse voice. ''The water won't poison me.''

Simon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He realized his glasses were covered in water spots. He removed them and wiped them with his shirt, trying to control his anger and fear in order to ask the right questions. ''Clary,'' he said, forcing his tone to be gentle. ''What _the hell_ is going on with you?''

Clary paused from ringing out her hair. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was a few minutes before she found the words. ''I don't know,'' she admitted. For the first time, Simon could finally see just how broken she looked. How afraid. ''I'm trying to figure it out, but…''

''Clary, let me help.''

She shook her head, getting to her feet. ''No, I'm sorry. I should've have done this to you. Thank you Simon, but I shouldn't take up anymore of your time.'' She winced. ''Which makes me an ass for doing what I'm about to do.''

Simon took a step back. ''Do what? Clary-''

''Tell my mom that I'll see her tomorrow,'' Clary said. ''Or the next day at the latest. Thanks again, Simon.'' Her stele appeared in her hand and in a quick moment she had made a slash at Simon. Simon grabbed his arm and realized she hadn't cut him, but marked him. He didn't have time to study the mark before his eyes slid shut and he fell unconscious to the ground.

**Me: I hope you enjoyed! If you can, please leave a review!**


	17. Help Me

**Me: Thank you Guest reviewer for taking the time to review! It means a lot!**

**Chapter 17**

Jace slashed at another training dummy. He wasn't sure how long he had been in the Institute's training room and he really didn't care. He had come in here to shake off some of his anxiety and as he hadn't succeeded in that yet, he had no intention of leaving.

Sweat dripped down his back as he took down another dummy. Isabelle and Max were here too, hopefully trying to catch up on the sleep he had made them miss. Alec had gone back home with Magnus. They were all just waiting now. Waiting for what, they didn't know.

Jace lowered his blade as his mind obsessively replayed Simon's conversation again. The way he had described Clary, how she had stupidly run into the lake…

They had all been prepared to go to Idris and track Clary down, but Simon had objected. _'She's not here anymore,' _he had said. _'She doesn't want to be found. Look, I think we just need to let her be. Whatever she's doing, she'll get us involved when she's ready. We have to wait.'_

_'__How long are we supposed to just 'wait'?' _Jace had barked.

Simon had sighed. _'Jace, she's scared. Cornering her and trying to force her to tell us her problem isn't going to have good results. It sucks, I know. But I saw her and really, I don't think we can afford to take any chances of pushing her. She could do something stupid.'_

_'__More stupid than running into Lake Lyn?'_

_'__Yeah.'_

Nobody had been happy about this plan. Jocelyn asked Magnus to try two more locater spells in hopes of something, but to no avail. Whatever Clary was using to hide herself was doing a spectacular job. Finally, Jocelyn had said that Simon was right. If Clary said she would come home soon, all they could do was wait.

Jace paused as he remembered Jocelyn's pale face. He thought with a stab of guilt that everything she had feared happening to Clary, every reason of hiding her from the Shadow world was coming true. As if the events from last year hadn't been bad enough…

Jace threw his sword down. It clattered loudly on the floor, echoing through the large room. He ran his hand through his hair in irritation. Simon never answered his question on how long they were supposed to just 'wait', and no one had offered any suggestions. _Clary, _Jace thought desperately. _What the hell are you doing?_

….

Clary sat in the abandoned room. For hours she had been wandering around the old building, a sick feeling in her stomach from the fear of being discovered. Though that was unlikely. No one would have much reason to visit Renewicks this late at night.

The entire building had looked virtually untouched since she had been here last year. The air was very still, as if the building was holding it's breath to see if those pesky fighters would be back to cause more mayhem. Clary spent some time in the room Valentine had had her mother in. She had tried to envision the scene her mother had described- Valentine speaking to Jocelyn, confessing about his mistakes with Jonathan and explaining about Jace. She wondered if there was anything else Valentine had spoken about, something else that her mother didn't share.

_The children froze at the man in the doorway. Clary felt her heart stop as his eyes fell on her, shock in them. ''What is going on here?''_

Clary had run from the room, blinking the scene from her mind. The visions were getting worse, getting more and more real. She wasn't as startled at them anymore, and didn't feel the urge to smash and break things in rage as she had after she had drawn the Remembrance Rune. Though that could be because she wasn't around anything she could break since leaving her room. _Or because those things are everything I'm mad about…_

Clary had come to Renewicks after Lake Lyn because it was another clue. She had been right about the Lake- it had given her a sense of clarity. She had belonged there, as if another piece of her had slipped into place by being in the water. She felt the same pull about Renewicks. Here she would find another piece of the puzzle, another clue as to what she was forgetting.

The Remembrance Rune burned under her bandage. She removed the wrappings as she walked the halls, rubbing it in order to lessen the pain. It kept burning as she came across this old room. Empty entirely, nothing of interest inside. And yet here was where she sat, her heart hammering in her ears as her mind spun.

_Red paint on the walls. Power. A voice. 'It's art, Clarissa,' said the boy with no pupils. 'Art created through blood, sweat, and tears.'_

Clary reached into her pocket. Her fingers went to her stele, feeling the cold stone before moving towards her knife. She held it in front of her.

_Red paint on her hands. _

Without realizing she was doing it, she made a cut across her palm.

The sudden pain made her shout. She bit her tongue as she watched the blood pool in her hand. She laid her knife aside as she tucked her knees under her. She leaned back and dipped her right index finger into the blood. She traced a pattern on the floor.

_'__Yes,' the boy purred. Though his eyes do not focus on the pattern, he is smiling with pleasure. 'It's perfect, little artist. Perfect.' His praise terrifies her and excites her all at once. The reaction remains as someone else enters the room, horror on his face. He shouts her name-_

''Clarissa?''

Clary snapped back to the present, looking up from the floor and to the doorway. Standing there, looking sick and faint, was Jonathan.

Their eyes locked in wariness. ''How'd you know I was here?'' Clary asked carefully.

Jonathan looked surprised at that. ''I'm not sure,'' he admitted. He took a step further into the room. The little moonlight that was shinning through the room illuminated Jonathan, making his pale complexion and hair look almost transparent. His green eyes went to the floor. ''What are you doing?''

Clary followed his gaze. Her hand had acted of it's own accord and sketched out a small design with her blood. Two circles inside each other, a line though them. She had done it all in one movement. ''Nothing…''

Clary tensed as Jonathan came closer. He crouched across from her. Clary didn't meet his gaze but looked at his hand as he used it to balance on the floor. He was putting a lot of pressure on it, as if he would fall without it. ''Your family is looking for you,'' he said.

''I know.'' Clary forced herself to meet his eyes. He wasn't looking at her, but at her hand and the blood that was still dripping from it.

''You're bleeding.''

''I know that too.''

Jonathan finally met her gaze and for a moment, they stared at each other.

_Her hand paused in grasping her bag, voices reaching her ears. Shouting. Who was her mother yelling at? She snuck up the hall and glanced into the kitchen. Crying, but not her mother crying. A boy…_

Clary inhaled sharply. This could go wrong in so many ways, but it was another piece she could collect. _Knowing is always better than not knowing. _''What did he do to me?''

Jonathan tilted his head. ''What do you mean?''

Clary tried to keep the shakiness out of her voice. ''Something- something's wrong with me. Everything is so wrong.'' She averted her gaze again, looking back at the pattern on the floor.

_'__But what if I can't call you?'_

_His eyes sparkled. 'You're an artist, aren't you? Make a symbol. One that will always help us find each other.'_

''He must have done something,'' Clary continued. ''Valentine. Or, if not him, someone else. But you…'' she looked back at him, ''You know, don't you?''

Jonathan kept his face expressionless. ''Know what?''

Clary cast through her mind for the words. ''Why did I feel like I knew you when I met you?'' she asked in a whisper. ''Why were you so surprised that I was nothing like you?''

Jonathan's eyes flashed. ''I don't know.''

''Bull.'' Clary kept her gaze on him hard. ''You do know. You know I'm missing something. I need to know what it is.''

''Clarissa,'' Jonathan's voice cracked. ''I don't know anything. But please believe me when I say sometimes _knowing_ is the worst thing in the world.''

Clary studied him. He looked sincere. He looked as though he knew first hand how damaging knowing something could be. But she didn't care what he thought. She needed to know, to find out and stop this horrible limbo she was in. ''Jonathan, will you help me?''

He looked surprised at that. ''With what?'' he asked carefully.

Clary thought quickly. To explain would be showing her hand, would be manipulating the facts and possibly screwing up the outcome. It wouldn't work. ''I can't tell you.''

Jonathan sneered. He leaned back on his heels. ''Don't.''

''Don't what?''

''Don't play games.'' Clary realized he was trembling. She resisted the impulse to reach for her knife when she realized he wasn't trembling in anger. Scared. He was scared. ''You know who played games? Valentine. He was good at them. Always won.'' Jonathan breathed heavy. ''If you want to kill me, then do it. But for god's sake don't play games. I can't take that.''

Clary felt a stab of guilt at herself. Since he had come back, Jonathan had played one game after another. Max had tricked him, she had tricked him. And if he knew she had been missing, no doubt Jace and the others had done something to him. She shouldn't play any more games.

_He's a demon, _she reminded herself sternly. _He hurt me. I owe him nothing. _

This thought kept her from telling her reason. But it didn't harden her tone. ''I don't want to play a game,'' she said. ''I need your help. Not to trick you or to kill you. But because…''

''Because why?''

Clary closed her eyes and sighed.

_She had never seen her mother so angry and scared. Her words were loud and scolding, but Clary couldn't quite hear them. She was focused on the boy her mother was yelling at, who was trembling in tears as each worded landed on him like a blow._

''Because it concerns you. It concerns _us.'' _She opened her eyes and looked at Jonathan as his suspicious gaze bore into her. ''You were here, weren't you?'' Clary gestured to the room around them. ''When we were?''

Jonathan blinked. He nodded hesitantly.

''It's like I can feel it,'' Clary continued in a whisper. ''I don't know how, or why. Something's happening to me. Something- something he did…'' she trailed off. She took a breath to steady herself. ''Jonathan, I am asking you-as your sister- to please help me.''

Jonathan stood as still as a statue. And with his pallor, he looked like one. Finally, he gave a small jerk of his head. ''Okay.''

Clary felt half relief and half terror. _This could go horribly wrong. _She got shakily to her feet, pulling out her stele. She held it out to Jonathan. ''Here.''

He eyed her warily as he stood. He didn't take the stele. ''What do you want me to do?''

''Make a portal,'' she said.

''To where?''

Clary tried to ignore the chanting in her head. _Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea. _''Your home.''

Jonathan looked absolutely bewildered. Clary wondered if he was having the same voice chant in his head, screaming at him not to trust her. If he did, he didn't show it. He simply took the stele and began to draw.

**Me: I hope you enjoyed! If you can, please tell me what you think! **


	18. The Cabin

**Chapter 18**

The cabin was located in a large clearing, surrounded on either side by wood. A well worn path winding towards the trees was the only clear trail that would eventually lead to the main road. It gave the cabin an appearance of being in a world all by itself. The night sky sparkled above Jonathan and Clary, the stars giving off plenty of light. They illuminated their surroundings and shone almost a spot light on the small house.

Jonathan's stomach tightened. Just looking at the house made him feel even sicker than he did already. To him, the cabin had actually been another world. A world where he was alone for hours at a time, sitting and wondering if his father would leave just like his mother had.

Jonathan shook the thoughts away and turned his attention to Clary. She was staring transfixed at their surroundings, that preoccupied gleam still in her eyes. Jonathan clenched his fists as he glanced to the knife she had put back in her belt. Would she turn on him? Was this where she felt she could carry out the deed to kill him?

Jonathan wasn't sure what had made him go to Renewicks earlier. When Jace and the Lightwoods had all left, Jonathan refused to think about Clary and had done his best to push the matter out of his mind. But then, without quite realizing it, he had gone there. Appeared there, almost as if summoned by that mark on the floor. It didn't make sense.

Clary began walking up the path, her eyes sweeping the clearing. Jonathan moved to lean back against a tree, watching her. He had no inkling as to what was going through her mind at the moment. The uncertainty filled him with anxiety. _If you want me dead, then say so. Make up your damn mind…_

Jonathan wasn't sure what was more concerning; Clary wanting him dead, or not wanting him dead. With the former, at least he knew what to expect. He could understand it, even resign himself to it. But the latter?

_'__I am asking you-as your sister- to please help me.'_

What could she possibly want from him? What could she possibly _trust_ in him for?

Jonathan's breath hitched as sudden stab of pain flared through his chest. He dug his heels into the dirt and his fingers into the tree bark behind him, forcing himself to focus. Clarissa- his sister- asked something of him. Whatever it was, he had to stay conscious enough to do it. _Atonement. Redemption._

_'__Never trust your enemies,' Valentine instructed coldly. He withdrew his knife from the now dead werewolf's back. 'Never give them the power to manipulate you.'_

Jonathan shook the memory from his head. _I'm the enemy. I did the manipulating. _He pushed himself away from the tree, crumbling more bark into his hand to distract himself from the pain in his chest. He walked toward Clary.

She was standing by the door, looking up at the upper floor of the cabin. She didn't turn her head as Jonathan approached. ''Coming in?''

''That a question or a demand?'' Clary's eyes flashed, but she didn't respond. She went to the door with her stele. ''There might still be a key behind-''

Clary had already reached behind a crooked board to her right. She held a small key in her fingers. ''I know.''

Jonathan blinked. ''How?''

Clary didn't answer, but put the key in the look. She was bitting her lip and her hand was trembling. She was scared. She didn't know how she knew either.

_As he cast his gaze around, he saw beyond the fence an old lot. Really? ''How did you know?''_

_His voice sounded rough to his own ears. Clary took a moment before responding. ''Know what?''_

Jonathan was confused by this. Twice now, Clary found things she shouldn't have known were there. The house, the key- three times if you counted how she knew he had been at Renewicks. He hadn't been there long, but still, how could she have known?

'_You know I'm missing something. I need to know what it is.' _

Jonathan didn't know what Clary was missing, but when she had said that he could feel fear rise up in him. He knew from experience there were somethings you didn't ask about, some secrets better left undiscovered. An image of Jocelyn's fearful face crossed his mind. _How different could things have been if I didn't know what I was? _

Jonathan shook his head. What did he care what Clary forgot? What was it to him if she remembered it?

Clary managed to get the key to go into the lock. She had to fiddle the rusted metal around before the lock finally gave way. Successful, she pushed open the door and they entered the cabin.

It was dark inside. The moonlight behind them shone a bit of light inside, illuminating the dust that hung over everything. The house was as Jonathan remembered. The staircase was ahead of them, parallel to the wall that separated the entryway they stood in from the living room to their right.

Clary walked further inside, her steps leaving footprints in the dust. She glanced around, seemingly taking it all in. ''This is where you lived?'' Jonathan shrugged in response. He eyed her carefully as she looked to the staircase. He was dreading her going up there, mostly because he didn't think he had the strength to do the stairs. Surprisingly though, Clary turned back to him without even setting foot on the first step. ''Is there a basement?''

Jonathan leaned against the doorframe. He shook his head. ''No.''

''You're sure?''

''Well, gee,'' he mused in annoyance. ''I lived here for over a decade. But I suppose I _could_ be mistaken.''

Clary frowned at him. ''Don't talk to me that way.''

_Stupid questions require stupid answers, _Jonathan thought bitterly. But he held his tongue.

Clary turned away from him and walked past the staircase, trailing her hand along the banister. She stopped at the end of the hall where the staircase ended and jutted against the wall. She looked at the bottom of the staircase where a closet could have been if there staircase were hollow. Her fingers tapped the wood. ''I wonder…''

Clary looked at her palm that she had cut previously. It had stopped bleeding, but blood was still on it. Jonathan watched her take a shaky breath before she placed her hand on the wall. Before he could ask what she was doing, he heard her mutter something. He couldn't make it out, but he tensed at the sound of it. It sounded like a spell.

Clary jumped back in surprise as their came a clicking and whirring sound on the other side of the staircase. Jonathan watched in surprise as one of the wood panels swung open.

The room was silent as they both processed the sight. ''Well,'' Jonathan mused. ''I guess I could be mistaken.''

He came closer as Clary inched her way back toward the staircase. She used the tip of her finger to push the panel open wider. ''You didn't know this was here?''

''No,'' Jonathan said quickly. His mind was racing. He didn't know this was here. But he lived in this house for years, walked up and down those stairs everyday. Surely he must've heard the hollowness of the steps?

As Clary peered into the darkness, a picture crossed Jonathan's mind. A moment of recollection, a distant memory of a day long forgotten appeared in his head, but before he could make it out it vanished again. This startled him, mostly because as a former demon, his memory was excellent.

''Shall we?'' Clary asked, jolting Jonathan back to the present. He looked past Clary and saw a steep circular staircase descending down into darkness.

_Great. Stairs._

Jonathan kept his concerns to himself. ''Ladies first.''

''What a gentleman,'' Clary grumbled irritably. Placing a hand on the wall to guide her, she began descending into the basement. Jonathan followed.

It got darker with each step down. ''When we reach the bottom, I'll draw a fire light,'' Clary said.

_If we reach the bottom, _Jonathan thought. He didn't like this at all. The darkness and the stillness reminded him all to much of his cave in Hell.

The sharp pain in his chest flared up again, making him follow Clary more slowly. He tried to distract himself from it by focusing on the cold stone his palm was rubbing against on the wall. He dragged the back of his ankle against the ledge every time he took a step to ensure he wouldn't miss one. His breathing was rapid, but whether is was from exhaustion or panic he wasn't sure.

Finally when he put his foot out to find the next step the ground was level. He walked forward and nearly crashed into Clary. ''Watch it. I'm tryin to draw a light…''

Soon a faint yellow glow illuminated their surroundings. They barely had time to be grateful for the light when they noticed the room and wished they hadn't lit it.

Paint on the walls. Red paint. Except somehow, Jonathan knew it wasn't paint.

Clary looked as though she had seen a ghost. She stepped away from the stair case to the middle of the room, spinning in a circle as she looked at all the pictures on the wall.

Jonathan stayed put, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. He kept looking from Clary to the walls, trying to understand and make sense of the scene.

The pictures on the walls looked at first glance to be symbols. Just doodles of shapes and lines. But the way Clary was looking at them made it clear they were much more than than. Jonathan took a step into the room when one symbol in particular caught his eye. ''This is the one you drew before you left,'' he said in amazement. ''The one your boyfriend showed me after nearly killing me.'' He turned away from it back to Clary. ''The one you drew on your forearm.''

Clary wasn't looking at the walls anymore, but at him. Jonathan moved on to another symbol. ''This is a hidden rune,'' he said, noting the familiar X surrounded by dots. ''It's used to block tracking. But it's been changed…'' he rubbed his finger along the dashes that went thought the dots. ''I assume this is what is keeping you so well hidden from your family?''

Jonathan returned his gaze to Clary, but she was now staring transfixed at the floor. Jonathan walked over and squinted in the dim light to make out the shape.

_Trapped. He was trapped. The lines around him were worse than chains, burning him and tightening even though there was no physical restraints. He wanted to rip them off but there was nothing there. Nothing to push or pull at. _

_Someone was laughing. Yellow curls and white eyes. He smiled widely at the scene. ''It was a nice sentiment,'' he said. ''But really, first thing you learn as a demon is to fear Devil Traps. I can't believe you were such a fool and made a symbol for yourselves!'' He looked to his right, where a girl stood terrified as she watched the scene play out in front of her. ''Like a said, a nice sentiment. But if you can summon your brother with a mark, then so can everyone else, little artist.''_

The laughter rang in Jonathan's ears, making his head spin. He stumbled and grabbed the wall for support. ''What the hell was that?'' he asked.

Clary looked at him. Jonathan had spent years studying how people looked when they experienced emotions. The similarities always frustrated him. Narrow eyes could mean suspicion or confusion. Tears could be either happy or sad. But no one needed to guess at what Clary was feeling. Her eyes wide, her mouth set in a trembling line, she darted out of the room and back up the stairs.

Adrenaline carrying him through, Jonathan managed to run after her. Clary was out of the house and running into the woods before she paused for breath. ''Clarissa!''

Jonathan reached to grab her arm to keep her from running away again but she recoiled in terror. ''Don't you fucking touch me!''

Jonathan withdrew his arm as she slid to her knees on the forest floor. For a moment there was only the sound of them gasping for breath. ''What was that?'' Jonathan managed to ask again. His voice was hoarse and cracked.

Clary didn't answer at first. She put her face in her hands and Jonathan could hear her choking. When she finally looked up, her face was streamed with tears. ''I know now,'' she whispered. ''I know now why my rune didn't work at first. Why it's all coming back in pieces. I know how to remember.''

Jonathan stared at her. ''Okay. So what do we do?''

Clary looked up at him, looking as if she were struggling for words. ''It's you,'' she finally bit out. ''You're the last piece.''

_The girl in the corner look at him and something inside him contracted. He would not let her be hurt. _

''Last piece to what?''

''You know,'' Clary continued. ''You know too, that something is missing.''

_''__Why did I feel like I knew you when I met you?''_

_''__Why were you so surprised that I was nothing like you?'_

_The staircase… that room…_

_''__There are somethings, Jonathan,'' Valentine said without bothering to look at his son. ''There are somethings you are not to ask questions about.''_

Jonathan felt his mouth go dry. ''Why?''

''Do you want them back?'' Clary asked in a whisper. She was staring at the ground. ''The memories? Do you want them back?''

_A blurry image. Crying. Laughter. ''I knew I could have a family.''_

''Can you do that?''

''I think so. But do you want to know?''

_'…__Please believe me when I say sometimes knowing is the worst thing in the world.'_

Jonathan nodded once. ''Yes.''

Clary bit her lip and kept her gaze on the ground. She looked as if she were mounting her courage. Bracing herself, she took out her stele and held out her hand. ''Your arm.''

Jonathan knelt in front of her and pulled up his sleeve. She stared at the white skin and visibly veins, along with the numerous cuts and scratches from the Seelie Queen's treatments. She met his gaze, staring at his face as if searching for something. _This is it, _Jonathan thought hopelessly. _She's going to kill me. _

Clary plunged the stele into his arm and began to draw.

Each movement was like a nail being driven into his heart. If he could've caught his breath he would've screamed at her to stop. Blood was pooling on his arm but he couldn't see if for the visions flashing before his eyes. Memories.

The patterning was slow. Jonathan didn't know how much time had passed but he was certain this was wrong. _Marks are not supposed to hurt like this. _Black spots danced in his visions, obscuring the things he saw. A busy city street. A girl with red pigtails.

Finally Clary removed the stele. Jonathan grasped his arm and curled in on himself, trying to breath. The pain stopped, but it left behind a different feeling. A feeling of clarity, of understanding, as though he just woke up from a dream and was startled because he hadn't realized he'd been asleep. He looked at Clary, his heart heavy.

''I remember.''


	19. Remembrance

**Chapter 19**

''I remember.''

_Clary paused from getting her bag. She walked carefully up the hallway, stopping to peer into the kitchen._

_Her mother was there, and standing in front of her was a boy. He looked like an angel. White hair and black eyes that shone with pleading. ''Please,'' Clary head him say. ''He- he wants me to do things. I don't want to do them. I'm scared. I have nowhere to go. Please- please help me.''_

_Jocelyn just stared at the boy. There was a look of utter incomprehension on her face, combined with a similar look she had had when Clary had broken her arm last year. Terrified, her mother was terrified. ''No.''_

_The boy opened his mouth to respond, but Jocelyn was shaking her head. ''Don't you see?'' she hissed in a tone Clary had never heard before. ''You are standing here, talking about how you don't want to do the things, not how you think the things are wrong.'' Her voice cracked. ''I can't help you. I can't.''_

_''__Please,'' the boy pleaded again. ''If he finds me-''_

_''__If he finds you?'' Jocelyn's voice had taken an incredulous tone. ''Did you ever think about what happens if he finds me? Or my daughter?'' The hair on Clary's neck stood up. ''I am raising her far away from this. Far away from it all. She is naive to the dangers of the world and I will do whatever it takes to keep her that way.'' There was a pause as Jocelyn caught her breath. ''You can't be saved, Jonathan. Not by me. And certainly not at the expense of Clary.'' _

_Clary watched as the boy, Jonathan, trembled. ''I'm your son,'' he said weakly._

_Clary heard the tears in her mother's voice. ''You don't even understand what that means,'' she said. ''There was a time you could have been different, Jonathan. It's my fault that, but now it's to late for you. You are not my son. You are a monster. And I will not let a monster hurt my daughter.''_

_It was Jonathan's turn to look terrified. But his fear was quickly replaced by an ugly sneer. He made a sweeping motion with his hand and Jocelyn fell to the floor. ''Mom!''_

_Clary abandoned her hiding spot and ran to her mother. She laid as if asleep. ''What did you do?'' Clary demanded, turning on the boy._

_He looked at her with shock. He had been shaking with fear before. Now he stood stock still, his eyes glassy but dry. ''I removed her memory of this conversation,'' the boy confessed._

_As they stared at each other, the words Jocelyn had been saying clicked into place for Clary. Understanding dawned on her, and the boy had a similar realization. ''Y-your my sibling…?''_

_In the following weeks, Clary lived in fear that Jonathan's spell hadn't worked and Jocelyn knew that Clary had overheard the fight in the kitchen. Time proved this not so. Secretly, she and Jonathan would meet up, sometimes for only minutes at a time. He told her of the Shadow world, of the monsters that lurked around and helped her discover why she hadn't seen these things before. _

_''__She shouldn't have lied to me,'' Clary said angrily upon realizing her Sight was being blocked. _

_Jonathan shrugged. ''She thought it was safer.''_

_''__Safer how?''_

_Jonathan seemed reluctant to discuss the subject. He said it was because he didn't understand. ''Understand what?''_

_''__I don't know. Protection, I guess.''_

_''__Jonathan, why did mom not want you?''_

_Jonathan never wanted to tell her the answer, often closing the conversation by disappearing. But one day, after much badgering, he finally gave in. ''It's because I have demon blood.''_

_''__What does that matter?''_

_''__That's what I thought. But since meeting you, I see now.'' He looked at her curiously. Jonathan's expressions were funny, Clary thought. They were either to subtle or to intense. Now was the latter. ''You're everything human, Clary. You are everything I will never be.''_

_''__Don't say that!''_

_Jonathan shrugged. ''It's true. I can almost understand why Jocelyn was so adamant about you not meeting me.'' That was another thing about Jonathan, his use of the word 'understand'. He didn't understand things Clary had never considered needing to struggle to comprehend. Such as emotions. _

_''__I'm glad I met you.''_

_They continued like this for years, Jonathan visiting whenever Clary had chunks of time she didn't have to account for. Jonathan showed her the stele, and together they realized her power of runes. ''Maybe I can use this to find a way to undo the Sight Blocking next time!'' Clary exclaimed in excitement. She frowned. ''You don't think the warlock will be able to tell?''_

_''__How could he?'' Jonathan studied the drawing she just did. ''This rune doesn't exist. You created it. Besides, he's blocking your Sight, not rooting around in your memories and deleting them individually.'' He handed the paper back to her. ''What do you want to call it?''_

_''__If it works,'' said Clary, folding it carefully into a square. ''I'll call it Remembrance.''_

Clary rocked back on her heels as her mind spun. Memories. Moments she had forgotten about.

Trembling, she forced herself to look at Jonathan. If there had been any trace of color on his face before, it was gone now. He was shaking too, and curled in on himself in a combination of pain and fear. He was staring at her, his green eyes matching her own.

He looked like he wanted to speak but Clary shook her head. ''No,'' she shouted, trying unsuccessfully to hold back tears. ''This- this doesn't change anything. The things you did-''

''I know.'' His voiced sounded hollow. ''I'm sorry. I am so sorry.''

His words were the same as when he had died. There wasn't much difference between then and now. Except of course, Jonathan had been dying then. And now, though he looked it, Jonathan wasn't dead. He was alive.

_'__Maybe there was another world. A world where I was a good brother.'_

Clary's breath hitched at the memory. She stared at Jonathan across from her. _There was. You were. _She inhaled deeply. ''J-Jonathan…''

He looked at her, his eyes wide in fear and sadness. ''No, no don't,'' he protested as she wrapped her arms around him..

''I'm sorry,'' she sobbed. She held him close, her hands trembling as she gripped him. Her body wanted to be afraid, wanting to run away from this person who had hurt her and her family. But she knew it was irrational. That had been Sebastian, a demon. The person she was hugging was the boy who had begged for help in the kitchen, who taught her how to use her power to protect herself and had come to her aid every time regardless. He was the boy who respected her torn indecision of Mundane and Shdowhunter worlds, and who never, ever hurt her. He was her brother. And for the first time in four years, she had him back.

Jonathan stiffened in her arms. ''No,'' he said again, shaking his head. ''I-''

He couldn't go on. He buried his face in her shoulder and cried. Clary felt his trembling hands rise, hesitantly resting on her arms. He was afraid to touch her. Afraid to embrace the sister he had hurt.

Clary pulled away from him and clasped his hands, holding them in her own. Jonathan couldn't meet her gaze and kept his eyes shut, tears running down his cheeks. Though her vision was blurry from her own tears, Clary felt as though for the first time she saw him clearly, as he was supposed to be. Jonathan Morgenstern, her brother. And for the first time in a long time her mind was at ease. No longer was there any doubt or any piece missing. She had all she needed.


	20. Texts And Rest

**Me: Thank you OliviaWhite55 for taking the time to review! It means so much to me that you like this story. I hope you continue to enjoy it! **

**Chapter 20**

They had summoned all that was left of their strength and used a portal to get back to Jonathan's house. They now sat on the couch in a silent exhaustion, awkwardness replacing the fear and mistrust they had felt earlier. It was a strange feeling, Clary mused. It wasn't as if she suddenly remembered she had had at one time a proper brother, but more like the feeling you get when you go to the store for bananas, make a list of other things you need, complete the shopping, and just as you are leaving the store congratulating yourself on getting everything, you realize you forgot the bananas.

_Maybe I'm going bananas, _she scowled at herself.

They hadn't said a word. Jonathan couldn't seem to look at her and kept his glance on his hands clasped in front of him. He looked so run down, so broken, it made Clary's heart hurt. She wanted to do something sisterly for him but was unsure of what. She turned away from him and looked out the window. She had no idea of the time, but the darkness was thick as it ever got in the city. She gave a reluctant sigh. ''I should go.''

Jonathan nodded as she rose hesitantly. ''If you need anything you can call…''

Jonathan managed to look at her sideways. ''I don't have a phone,'' he said softly.

''Oh, idiot,'' Clary scolded herself aloud. She glanced around the room and saw what she was looking for on the bookshelf. She went over and picked up a black cell phone. ''When Max was looking around he found this in the cabinet. I guess Valentine stocked some things here he thought he might need.'' Clary distracted herself by fumbling with the phone, punching her number in. She handed it to Jonathan.

He stood shakily and took it. ''He always did like Black Friday sales.'' At Clary's expression, he winced. ''Sorry- pathetic attempt at humor.''

Clary actually laughed, mostly in relief. ''It makes an interesting mental picture,'' she smirked. ''Along with the idea he got these houses through realtor agencies.''

A smile spread across Jonathan's face. They stood staring at each other for a moment, and Clary felt some of her unease melt away. ''Actually,'' she said as a thought occurred to her. ''We don't need phones to communicate, do we?''

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at her. He responded, though his mouth did not move. _Mind links can get a little rusty without constant use._

It took her a moment, but Clary was able to reply back. _Seems okay to me._

Jonathan nodded. _Okay then. _A feeling of familiarity rushed over Clary. A memory of her lying in her old orange walled room late at night talking like this to Jonathan resurfaced in her mind. It made her smile.

''Bye, Jonathan,'' she said aloud, moving to the door.

Jonathan watched her go. ''Clarissa,'' he said suddenly. Clary paused with her hand on the knob. Jonathan was staring at her, fear in his face. ''What- what now?''

The unease settled back over Clary, but it wasn't about Jonathan. ''We'll figure it out,'' she assured him. And as she said it, she knew that they would. She would not be losing her brother again.

….

Clary walked away from the lot and found herself back in the alley which she and Max had come back with Jonathan not to long ago. She was baffled at the turn things had taken, but so very pleased. Of course, if she was being honest, her troubles weren't over…

What was she going to do about everyone else? Tell them the truth? That Jonathan wasn't just human now, but she had known him before he had given in completely to the darkness that ruled him, and that she was certain he was good? It sounded flimsy even to her, though she knew it to be true.

She remembered Jace asking her when she and Max had returned whether or not she thought Jonathan was capable of being human. Clary thought she might get Jace to give Jonathan a chance, if only for her sake. Alec and Isabelle might too, combined with Max's pleading. But her mother…

_''…She is naive to the dangers of the world and I will do whatever it takes to keep her that way.'' There was a pause as Jocelyn caught her breath. ''You can't be saved, Jonathan. Not by me. And certainly not at the expense of Clary.'' _

Since learning of Jonathan, Clary had always gotten the impression that had Jocelyn known he was alive, she'd have taken him with her when she fled Idris. Clary believe Jocelyn thought that to. But if the scene that took place in the kitchen so many years ago was anything to go by, that was not the case.

Clary understood, of course she did, why Jocelyn said the things she said. Nevertheless, she was angry. Angry that she had been lied to, angry that she and Jonathan had suffered because of that decision. But could she stand in front of her mother and say this? After all Jocelyn had been though and done, could Clary really stand in front of her and throw it all back in her face?

Clary stood at the end of the alley, glancing down the sidewalk. Her mother and Luke would be worried sick, but she couldn't face them yet. Not while she was still so undecided and exhausted. There was only one place she wanted to go now, one person she wanted to see. Without further hesitation, Clary walked towards the Institute.

….

Jace rubbed his hair vigorously with a towel, his ears still ringing from Isabelle's scolding. It was an amazing thing that both Alec and Isabelle had inherited their mother's ability to show concern and lecture bossily all in one breath. Jace hoped never to be in an instance when all three would do it at once; he was pretty certain no one could survive the experience.

After being thrown out of the training room by his sister (nearly beaten up on the way out after Jace jokingly asked if Isabelle wanted to 'fight about it'), Jace had taken a steaming hot shower. He thought the water might make his anxiety lessen, make his mind stop imagining worst case scenarios. No such luck.

Tossing his towel into the dirty hamper, Jace grabbed his phone to see if any of his messages or texts had been replied to. A no on that front as well. Jace was resisting the urge to hurl the phone across the room when his glance went to the window. He blinked at the figure on the other side of it. _''Clary?''_

She tapped impatiently on the glass. Jace went over to the window, staring at her in disbelief. He took his time undoing the latch and pushing it up. ''Yes, Jane?''

''What, are you the only one allowed in this relationship to show up at windows?'' Clary asked as she carefully got off her precarious perch and climbed in. Jace offered her a hand and helped her.

''If I say yes, will that matter?'' Jace closed the window while noticing the outside. ''How'd you get up there?''

''Max told me about the tree in the back.''

''Ah.'' Jace nodded as he turned to look at Clary. He clasped his hands behind him. ''So, how was your swim?''

Clary had the decency to look ashamed. ''Yeah- about that…''

''Clary,'' Jace said pleadingly. He felt his exhaustion from worry double as he looked at her. Her clothes were dirty, her hair a mess. Her left arm was covered with blood. ''What the hell happened?'' Clary didn't respond and just looked at the floor. ''Everyone's been worried. Your mom is a mess. Max confessed to everyone about Jonathan and now they all know-''

''They do?'' This seemed to terrify Clary.

''Yes!'' Jace said. For a fleeting moment he wished he had Isabelle and Alec's scolding/concern tactics. ''Your room- blood on the floor. You right now-'' he gestured to her arm. ''And Simon's call. Clary-''

''Jace,'' Clary interjected softly. Her gaze rested on him, and his heart contracted. She looked so tired. So broken. ''It's been a crappy couple of hours,'' she admitted. ''I'm sorry I scared everyone. Really I am. And I promise I am going to make it right tomorrow. But right now, I just want to feel right. And you are the only thing that feels right to me. So please, let's not talk. I will see my mom first thing in the morning but right now, can we please not talk?''

Jace considered her for a moment. Through the faint light coming in the window, the moon cast shadows on her face, washing out her hair and causing her green eyes to sparkle. They looked like dim fireworks that had been burning to long. ''Okay,'' he said. Clary relaxed in relief. ''But one question-''

''Jace-''

''Are you okay?''

Clary sighed. She slowly shook her head. ''No. But I will be.''

Jace nodded in understanding. He came over to her, but she held up a hand. Without touching him, she stood on tip toe and kissed him softly. ''I'm a mess. I need to shower otherwise you will never get all the dust out of your room. Is there a t-shirt I can borrow?''

Jace handed her one from the wardrobe. She smiled in thanks. ''I'll be quick,'' she promised, disappearing into the bathroom. Jace sat on his bed, noticing his phone next to him on the covers. He must've dropped it there before he opened the window. He picked it up, listening to the water running in the bathroom.

Should he tell everyone Clary was safe? Clary had said she would tell Jocelyn tomorrow, but everyone else?

As Clary was staying the night, Jace figured Isabelle and Max would see she was back soon enough. It wasn't his place to tell Jocelyn, but as he and Magnus were across town, Jace decided to text Alec. **Clary's back.**

There was pause before the message said READ. Then another pause as Alec typed back. **Is she okay?**

**I don't know. She's not injured or anything. **Jace decided it was better not to mention her bloody arm. **Don't say anything to Jocelyn. Clary is going to see her first thing in the morning. **

**Jace, she should really tell her like, now?**

**She doesn't want to. Something's up with her, I just don't know what.**

There was another pause as Alec responded. **Whatever. Just make sure she does, okay?**

**Obviously.**

**And someone should probably tell Simon?**

**Will do.**

**Goodnight, Jace.**

**Night.**

Jace clicked off his phone just as the water in the bathroom shut off. A few minutes later Clary emerged, looking much improved from the shower. Jace couldn't help himself. ''So better or worse than Lake Lyn?''

He was afraid he'd overstepped until Clary gave a weak laugh. ''Nice,'' she murmured. Her hair was laying all wet across her back, and his t-shirt hung past her thighs. Her skin looked slightly red from the heat of the shower, but that did not obscure the thick white lines from marks on her skin, or the dark circles under her eyes.

Jace moved over in the bed to make room for her. Clary sighed in relief as she got in. ''I told Alec you were back,'' Jace said. ''I hope that's okay.''

Clary nodded as she fixed the blankets. ''Of course.''

''He thinks we should probably tell Simon.''

Horror came over Clary's face. ''Oh my god, Simon.'' She put a hand to her forehead. ''Oh, I freaked him out.''

''Maybe a little.''

''And then I knocked him out.''

''I'm sure he'll forgive you.''

''I am the worst best friend ever.''

''Everyone's entitled to a bad day.'' Clary didn't respond as she got up again and went back into the bathroom. Jace saw her grab her jacket she had laid on top of the hamper. She dug in the pocket for her phone.

''You have any wet wipes?'' Clary asked. Jace nodded to his desk, shame stirring up in him at this obvious respect for his OCD neatness. Clary didn't seem bothered. She simply wiped her phone and hands before coming back over to the bed. She sat back down and stared at the screen. ''Do I just say I'm back?''

Jace shrugged. ''I guess?''

'' 'I'm back' ? 'Don't worry' ? 'Sorry I knocked you unconscious' ?'' Clary's voice rose with every suggestion. '' 'Tell you later' ? 'See you soon' ? 'Details to follow' ?''

''Okay,'' Jace said slowly, taking the phone away from his panicking girlfriend. ''How about I text Simon?'' Clary just buried her head in her hands. Jace resisted the urge to ask if she was okay again.

Clary sighed. She nodded at him. ''Thanks.''

Jace reached over her for his own phone. He turned it back on and Clary laid down as he texted Simon.

**Clary's back.**

There was no pause as there had been with Alec. **IS SHE OKAY?**

**Yeah **Jace replied.

**WELL THANK YOU MONOSYLLABIC MAN HOW IS SHE?**

''What is it?'' Clary asked as she noticed Jace frowning at his screen.

**You know, I get you're yelling so you can stop typing in all caps.**

**NO I CAN'T MY PHONE IS BROKEN NOW TELL ME HOW IS CLARY**

**I said fine.**

**FINE? SHE SWAM IN LAKE LYN HOW IS SHE NOT DEAD**

Jace cocked his head at the question. He repeated the question to Clary, who shrugged awkwardly from where she was laying down. ''I made a rune.''

Jace held back his own questions as he texted back. **She said she made a rune.**

**IS SHE RIGHT THERE? **

**Yeah. She'll talk to you tomorrow.**

**SHE'S NOT OKAY IS SHE?**

**SHE'S FINE. ~Good night~**

Jace clicked off his phone before Simon could reply again. ''He's mad, isn't he?'' Clary asked as Jace reached over her again to put his phone on the bedside table.

''Nah,'' said Jace. He readjusted himself, laying on his side so he was looking at her. ''He's just being Simon.''

Clary nodded understanding. She looked so tired. Jace curled his fingers and stroked her cheek, his mind still spinning scenarios as to what could've happened to her. She brought her own hand up to his and grasped it, her fingertips brushing his. But he felt something on her hand and gently opened it to see. ''Clary,'' he exclaimed as saw her palm. A dried over cut was there, thick and messy. ''How-''

''Don't,'' she reminded him. It was only because of her drowsy tone that Jace refrained from saying more.

''Let me put an iratze on it.'' Jace prepared to get up to get his stele, but Clary stopped him with her hand.

''No I did before,'' she told him urgently. ''I did. Don't get up. Just stay.''

Jace resumed his position and ran his hand soothingly on her arm. ''Okay.''

''Hold me please,'' she whispered.

Jace wrapped his arms around her gently and pulled her close. Clary closed her eyes and tucked her head under his chin, eliminating any space between them. Jace untangled her wet hair gently with his fingers. It wasn't until he felt her body fully relax against him that he allowed himself to close his own eyes. He pushed all his questions and worries away and focused on the fact that Clary was here, she was safe. That was all that was important tonight.


	21. Disastrous Conversations

**Me: Thanks to the guest reviewer for their review last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one! **

**Chapter 21**

Clary didn't sleep long. Dawn peaked through the curtain far sooner than she would've liked. As she watched the orange light cast a glow through the room, she entertained the possibility of just staying here, curled up with Jace in the warmth and safety of the morning. Of course, she knew she couldn't. Every second the sun rose higher was another second her mother was worrying about her. Anxiety pricked at Clary just thinking of the conversation that would have to ensure.

She forced herself to move, reluctantly untangling herself from the blankets and Jace and sitting up. Her mind still felt exhausted from the previous day's events, and despite some sleep her body wasn't much better. But it didn't matter: she had to get moving.

Clary got up from the bed slowly so as not to wake Jace and made her way to the bathroom. She was glad to find a previous outfit of her's from the week Jocelyn and Luke went away set aside in a drawer. She pulled on the jeans and t-shirt, reveling in their familiarity. She couldn't help but think how strange it was that, despite having remembered a huge part of her life, how everything still remained the same.

_That's because nothing's changed, _Clary scolded herself. And it was true, nothing had. Just because she remembered a part of her past didn't mean she was any different than she had been. This was the point she had to drive home to Jocelyn. _Nothing's changed. _

_Except the life you tried keeping me from since birth I actually discovered when I was nine. And proceeded to hide from you._

_Okay, not helping. _Clary rolled up Jace's t-shirt he had lent her and stuffed it into the hamper, throwing it in with a force as if it were her combative thoughts. She grabbed her sweatshirt and shrugged it on before exiting the bathroom.

Clary walked back over to the bed to grab her phone off the side table when Jace awoke. He blinked at her in confusion before sitting up. ''You alright?''

''Yeah,'' Clary assured him, stuffing her phone back in her pocket. ''Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.''

''You didn't.'' Jace studied her for a moment before glancing at the window. ''It's early.''

''I know. But the longer I wait-''

''I get it.'' Jace looked at her again. ''Do you want me to come with you?''

Clary shook her head. ''No. I have to talk to Mom alone and explain.''

''I'd be interested in the explanation.''

Clary's stomach tightened at that. She was to preoccupied imaging her mother's reaction to even process telling Jace about Jonathan. ''You'll get it. I promise.''

Jace nodded as Clary went towards the window. ''You know, we have a nice front door.''

''I know,'' Clary replied. ''But I don't want to risk waking Max or Isabelle.''

''If you're sure.''

''I am.''

''Clary-'' Clary paused from where she stood with one foot on the window sill, ready to go out. She looked at Jace expectantly, but whatever he was going to say he rethought it and just sighed. ''Call me as soon as you can, okay?''

''I will,'' Clary promised. She smiled at him reassuringly before climbing out the window.

…..

The entire walk to her apartment, Clary tried to imagine telling her mother about Jonathan. She started several conversations in her head, scowling and discarding them as they all sounded to improbably. Of course they sounded improbably- Clary had no idea just how her mother was going to react to this news.

Finally reaching the building, Clary entered and began walking up the stairs, each step making the metal resonate and causing her ears to ring. Her stomach was in knots and the knots seemed to pull as she reached her floor.

With hesitation, Clary walked down the hall to her door. She paused and stared at it for a moment. On the other side her mother and Luke were in there worrying about her, wondering where she was and if she was okay. When she entered, they would be relieved. When she told them all that happened, they would be angry and horrified.

Taking a breath to steady herself, Clary put her hand on the knob and turned it. As she suspected, they left it unlocked for her.

Despite her attempt to be quiet the door clicked as she closed it. ''Clary?'' Came Luke's voice immediately after. Bitting her tongue, Clary walked into the apartment and entered the living room.

Luke and Jocelyn must've been sitting on the couch but had gotten up at the sound of the door. They stood watching as Clary approached them. ''Yeah, it's me.''

Luke had to sit on the arm of the chair in relief. Jocelyn went to her and hugged her. ''Oh, thank god.''

Clary closed her eyes and allowed herself to revel in the warmth of her mother's touch. _The touch you refused to Jonathan._

_Stop it._

''Clary,'' Jocelyn began as she pulled away and looked her over. ''What happened?''

Clary opened her mouth to speak but could form no words. Her mother was looking at her with concern in her eyes, dark circles underneath them from lack of sleep. She and Luke had spent hours worrying and fretting about her, and now she was going to add to their worry? Going to dig up the past and make them feel guilty? How could she do that?

''Mom,'' Clary finally managed. ''I'm sorry.''

''Sorry about what?'' Jocelyn asked, noticing her daughter's tone.

''About last night.'' A tear slipped out of Clary's eye. Jocelyn made to brush it away, but Clary waved away her hand. ''I worried you and left without any word and that was wrong.''

''Yes, it was. But Clary, what happen-''

''I will never do it again,'' Clary went on, cutting off her mother's question. ''I promise. Can we please just leave it at that? Please?''

Jocelyn stared at her. ''Clary, if something is wrong I want to know. You've been acting strange for weeks-''

''I know. And that will all stop but can we please not talk about where I was or what I was doing. Please?''

''Clary, you can tell me anything.''

''No I can't.'' Clary hated herself the moment she said it, but she knew it was true. ''I can't tell you, Mom, because it will break your heart. It will disappoint you. And I can't stand to do that.''

There was an expression on Jocelyn's face that Clary couldn't decipher. ''I'm sorry about last night,'' she said again. ''It will never happen again.'' She looked down at the hem of her shirt, her fingers picking at it in nervousness. ''I- I'm going to go clean up my room now.''

Clary walked around her mother and was halfway to the hall when Jocelyn turned around. ''Is this about Jonathan?''

''Jocelyn-'' Luke tried to interject, but Jocelyn paid no heed.

''Did he do something to you?'' Jocelyn demand.

''Mom,'' Clary said, closing her eyes and keeping her back to her mother. ''I am begging you to please not talk about this.''

''No!'' Clary could hear Jocelyn approaching. ''I come home, my daughter's room is trashed, there's blood on the floor, my daughter is missing, and I find out the person who kidnapped her is alive because oh, apparently she rescued him! So no, Clary, we can't not talk about this. We are going to talk about this.''

''I can't-''

''Well, we have to.''

''No we don't.''

''Why not?''

_''__Because you've been through enough!'' _Clary screamed, turning around to face her mother. Tears pricked at her eyes. Jocelyn stared at her as Clary tried to compose herself. ''You,'' she managed in a more calm tone. ''Are the woman who lived with a crazy man, survived years of abuse, lost your child, plotted an uprising and then left your life behind so that you could keep me safe.'' Clary gestured helplessly. ''I have no right to judge you, or to throw all your sacrifices back in your face just because I want the life you didn't. The life that turned on you. I have no right.

''I have never wanted to disappoint you, Mom. You don't know what it took for me to even tell you I wanted to continue with being a Shawdowhunter after the Mortal War. To stand in front of you and say that everything you tried to protect me from is everything I want. And I know you deny it but I know that you wish I wasn't a Shadowhunter. You wish I hadn't found out everything I did. And last night-'' Clary tried to catch her breath. ''I found out something else. And I can't share it with you because I can't stand to watch you worry. To watch you be disappointed. I just can't. So please, please, let's leave it at that.''

Jocelyn's face was an impassive mask. ''Clarissa,'' she said evenly. ''You have, and never will, disappoint me.'' Clary had to choke back a sob at that. ''I never, ever want you to feel you can't tell me things just because I've been through stuff. Everyone has. You said it yourself. Knowing is always better. I want to know, Clary. I want to know.''

Clary buried her head in her hands. ''I don't want you to know,'' she admitted.

Jocelyn didn't respond to that. Clary could hear footsteps as Luke walked closer. ''Clary,'' he said. ''Is it because of Jonathan? Are you afraid to tell us because Jonathan has something to do with this?''

His tone was void of any accusations, any assumptions. Clary managed to look at her parents again. Jocelyn looked intently at her, fearing her answer. Luke maintained a perfectly neutral expression, but Clary could sense his worry as well. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to tell them. But she didn't have a choice.

''When Max came back,'' she said softly. ''He brought Jonathan with him.''

Luke nodded. ''He told us. He believes he's different.''

_He's how he was, _Clary thought bitterly. _How he was before we abandoned him. _

''How does Jonathan effect what happened to you?'' Jocelyn asked. ''Where you were? Why you went to Lake Lyn?''

Clary balled her fists to keep her hands from shaking. ''I went to Lake Lyn to help me remember.''

''Remember what?''

Clary inhaled deeply. ''Remember the things I forgot when you had Magnus block my sight.''

Jocelyn blinked in confusion. ''What could you have forgotten?'' she asked. ''Faeries in the park and the scars on my back?''

Clary shook her head. The knots in her stomach got tighter. ''When Magnus blocked my sight,'' she went on. ''I forgot how- how his spell would come undone.''

''Undone?''

''How I told Jonathan how to undo it.'' Her parents stared at her uncomprehendingly. ''Because I knew Jonathan,'' Clary went on. ''I knew him.''

Jocelyn's fingers grabbed the back of the couch as she looked at her daughter. ''What do you mean, you knew him?''

''I met him when I was nine,'' Clary said. ''He came to our apartment.''

Jocelyn shook her head. ''No. No.''

''He came, and I met him. And he told me about the Shadow World. He's how I knew how to use and draw runes. When we found out you were having Magnus block my Sight, I made a rune for him to use so he could undo it. That way I would always remember him and the things we did together. And that's all that came back last night. All those memories of me and Jonathan and how we knew each other before everything that happened.''

A horrible silence filled the air as Clary's words registered with them. ''Clary,'' Luke said softly. ''How could you have known Jonathan without- well, without-''

''Without you knowing about it?'' Clary finished harshly. She shrugged. ''We were sneaky.''

Jocelyn looked at Clary. ''Sweetie,'' she began. ''Please don't be mad at what I am about to say.''

Clary bit her lip in anticipation. ''Okay.''

''You have to understand,'' Jocelyn said carefully. ''How it looks.''

''How what looks?''

''Jonathan comes back,'' Jocelyn said. ''And all of a sudden you have these memories…''

''Not all of a sudden,'' Clary said, heating rising in her face as the suggestion made itself clear. _They think I am being manipulated. They think I am being controlled like Jace was. _''This was happening before Jonathan came back, before Max brought him back.''

''Are you sure?'' Luke asked. Clary's heart beat faster.

''Of course I'm sure.'' Clary had been prepared for them to be mad and afraid. She had not prepared for the possibility they wouldn't believe her. ''And besides, he didn't remember either. I brought the memories back to him.''

Luke and Jocelyn looked at her, and Clary could tell they weren't convinced. ''It's true!''

''Okay.'' Jocelyn held up a hand. ''So, you're saying that you knew Jonathan when you were nine so therefore everything that happened last year is forgotten?''

''Obviously not,'' Clary hissed, unable to contain her anger. ''The Heavenly Fire burned away what was evil in him, Mom. He's human now.''

''So that makes it okay?''

''Oh my God.'' Clary couldn't believe the tone of voice her mother was using. It was as if she were a foolish little girl. ''The Angels let Max take Jonathan so Jonathan could atone for what he did. He spent weeks in the Seelie Queen's prisons, being tortured so that Max could come home. He helped me when I was feeling like I was going crazy from these thoughts in my head and without him I would've gone crazy and never gotten my memories back and all you can do is lecture me on everything that happened last year? I know what happened last year, mother. Okay? I assure you, not all is forgotten.''

''But forgiven?''

''No. I have not forgiven _Sebastian,_ the demon who we fought last year. But Jonathan, my brother? He was a victim. And there's nothing to forgive.''

Clary saw her mother's eyes flash but she didn't care. She was shaking from anger. ''This-'' she said, holding up her hands. ''Is exactly why I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want you to feel-''

''Feel what, Clary?'' Jocelyn's tone was like iron. ''Feel what?''

Clary bit her tongue. She wanted to say guilty, because that's what she thought her mother would've felt. Guilty that she could've had the son she mourned for. But it was clear she did not feel any guilt. The look on Jocelyn's face was the one Clary remembered from the day her mother did not remember- anger, resignment. Jonathan was a demon and couldn't be saved. To say otherwise was inaccurate.

_'__She suspected Valentine was alive.'_

A horrible thought occurred to Clary. Maybe that day in the kitchen, Jocelyn refusing to help Jonathan wasn't anything new. Maybe she always knew he was alive. After all, if she thought Valentine was alive, why not her son? If the bones of Michel Wayland hadn't convinced her of her husband's death, why would the bones of a little boy convince her of her son's?

Clary put her hands down. She was shaking. ''I can't do this,'' she said in a whisper. ''I can't-''

She broke off, going down the hallway and ignoring her parents' calls. She muffled her sobs into her hand as she entered her room, closing the door behind her. She leaned against in shock as the daylight illuminated her room, it's trashed state mimicking how she felt at the moment. Broken, torn apart.

Clary slid down against the door to the floor. She buried her face in her knees as she cried.


	22. Disastrous Conversations Part 2

**Me: Thank you OliviaWhite55 for taking the time to review last chapter! It means a lot. I hope you enjoy! **

**Chapter 22**

''She was here and you didn't tell us?'' Isabelle exclaimed when Jace told her and Max about Clary.

''It was late,'' Jace explained as he ducked Isabelle whacking him with a cereal box.

''Who cares?''

''Yeah,'' said Max, sitting up on the kitchen stool to hit Jace with the empty milk container. Jace grabbed it.

''I feel very under attack.''

''As you should.'' Isabelle slammed the box down and went to the utensil drawer to dig out spoons.

''So is she okay?'' Max asked as Jace poured him cereal.

An image of Clary's exhausted face went through Jace's mind. ''I haven't gotten the full story yet,'' he admitted as he handed his little brother the bowl.

''But was she hurt?'' Isabelle pressed. ''The blood in her room-''

She stopped talking as Jace's phone buzzed. Trying not to choke on his cereal, Jace glanced at his phone. It was a text from Clary. **Breakfast at Taki's?**

Jace texted back quickly. **Alone or with Isabelle and Max?**

There was a pause as she replied. **They might as well come.**

**Okay. See you in a few. **Jace clicked off his phone. ''Change of plans,'' he said, taking Isabelle's spoon from her hand just as she was about to dig in. She raised her eyebrow at him. ''That was Clary. She wants to see us.''

…

Clary was already sitting at a table when they got there. Jace was surprised at how drained she looked- defiantly worse then before she left. Her eyes looked very red, as if she had been crying. But she smiled in greeting and after being pestered by Isabelle for an explanation, Clary took a breath to compose herself and told them.

They took the news in silence. Taki's wasn't busy in the mornings and they had the place to themselves. Nevertheless, they spoke in low tones in fear of being overheard. ''Now before you say anything,'' Clary warned. ''No, I am not being manipulated, influenced, and these memories are, indeed, 100%, mine, and real.''

From the way she said those things, Jace wondered what had transpired at her house. ''Okay,'' said Isabelle, leaning forward in her seat. ''You are saying not only that Jonathan was a good person before everything that happened, but that you think he can be again?''

Clary nodded. ''This time he doesn't even have any demon blood.''

''So you want us to trust him?''

''I'm not asking you to trust him. I'm not asking you to do anything. Sebastian did horrible things and nothing can just erase that.'' Clary took a deep breath. ''I'm just explaining what happened last night and apologizing for worrying everyone.''

''Why didn't you tell us about the memories coming back?'' Jace asked.

''I didn't know what was happening,'' Clary confessed. ''And when I realized it-''

''You went off the deep end,'' Isabelle finished.

Clary looked offended, but she just slumped in her chair. ''Kinda.''

''So what now?'' Max asked.

''You want us to just…'' Isabelle fumbled for words. ''Let Jonathan be?''

Jace watched Clary's face. She sat up again in her chair. She started picking at the sleeve of her sweatshirt, twirling a loose thread. Jace knew that movement. Clary was nervous. She hesitated in responding so that Max cut in. ''As opposed to what, Izzy?''

His tone was challenging and Isabelle knew it. She shrugged noncommittally. ''I don't know, Max.''

''What about the Clave?'' Jace posed. He looked at Clary. ''If they found out…''

''They'd be mad at _me_,'' Max emphasized. ''Because _I_ brought him back and then lied about it. So if you are going to tell the Clave, it's me you are throwing under the bus. Not Jonathan.''

''No one is throwing anyone under the bus!'' Isabelle exclaimed.

''Really? Cause it certainly sounds that way.''

''Max,'' Clary finally spoke. ''It's okay, they have a point. The Clave would certainly have a problem if they found out-''

''I never said anything about informing the Clave.'' Jace held up his hands innocently.

''Yeah,'' Isabelle agreed. ''We would never, Clary.''

Clary nodded. ''I appreciate that.'' She looked down at her hands again as silence settled over them.

''So,'' Isabelle ventured again. ''Is there anything you want us to do?''

Clary shook her head. ''No. It's my problem now.'' She smiled at them. ''Thanks, though.'' Her smiled wavered as a thought occurred to her. ''Actually, Alec and Magnus…''

''I can tell them if you want.''

Clary closed her eyes in relief. ''I would really appreciate that. I don't think I can repeat myself again.''

''Did things not go well with your mom?'' Jace asked finally. Clary expression answered perfectly.

''I'll figure it out.'' She got up then. ''I have to take care of some things. I think I left some of my books at the Institute though.''

''I'll come with you,'' Jace said, moving to stand.

''No, you haven't finished eating,'' Clary said, gesturing to his plate. She walked around the table and kissed him. ''I'll just run and get them. See you later?''

Clary began walking to the door when Max sprang up. ''I'll come too! I've finished.''

Clary wordlessly let Max follow her out of the diner and onto the sidewalk. Isabelle turned in her seat to watch them go and turned back to Jace only when they were out of sight. ''Well?''

Jace focused on his sister. ''Well what?''

'' 'What about the Clave','' Isabelle repeated in a mocking tone. She slapped his arm. ''You knew!''

''Knew what?''

''About Jonathan! About Clary's and Max's whole plan to get him out!''

''I did not!''

''Oh, please. If you didn't know you would've flipped out ten times over in the past 2 hours alone.''

Jace wanted to protest again, but didn't see the point. ''She was planning on killing him,'' he admitted in defeat.

''Well, that worked out great!''

''What do you want me to do? Kill him now?''

''It's to late for that!''

''Obviously.'' Jace pushed his plate back in disgust. ''Now that Clary's remembered such 'happy' times…''

Isabelle scowled. ''You don't believe that, do you?''

''Believe she's remembered things? Sure. It makes sense actually, how she knew certain things like her rune power and such.''

Isabelle gaped at him. ''You don't trust him, do you?''

''Hell no.'' Jace stared at Isabelle, wondering exactly what kind of idiot she took him for. ''Which brings me to repeat my former sentiment: What do you want me to do?''

Isabelle slumped in her seat. ''Something happened with Jocelyn this morning,'' Jace continued. ''Hence the whole disclaimer at the beginning of Clary's speech and how crappy she looked.''

''I can imagine.'' Isabelle sighed. ''I guess we just…wait?''

''For what? The other shoe to drop?''

''Maybe?'' It was Jace's turn to gape at her. ''Clary clearly thinks Jonathan can change,'' Isabelle continued. ''I think it's bull but we are not going to convince her of that. And if her mother thinks the same then who does that leave Clary to turn to? Jonathan? Is that what we want?'' They both shuddered at the thought. ''I say we let her be and be there for her when she needs us.''

Jace resisted the urge to bang his head against the table. ''I guess so.''

''You don't think the Clave will find out, do you?'' Isabelle asked carefully.

''Not unless one of us snitches.'' A horrible thought occurred to Jace. ''Not unless _Jocelyn_ snitches.''

Isabelle shook her head wildly. ''She wouldn't. Clary would never forgive her.''

Jace spread his arms, not being able to agree or disagree with that sentiment. Isabelle gave a sigh before standing up. ''I'm going to go see Alec and Magnus,'' she announced, pushing her chair in. ''You heading home?''

''Eventually.'' Something in his tone gave him away, making Isabelle pause and study him.

''Don't do anything stupid.''

''Who, me?'' Isabelle raised her hand to smack his arm again, and Jace backed away in anticipation. ''What is with the physical abuse lately, woman?''

''Sometimes,'' Isabelle said with great severity. ''I just have no words.''

…

Jace trudged to the lot Max led them to yesterday. He wasted no time reaching for the doorknob and yanking it open.

Jonathan was sitting on the couch. He frowned as Jace entered. ''I guess our educations really did differ,'' he said as Jace stood glaring at him. ''Valentine never taught you how to knock?''

''Cut the crap,'' Jace said. ''Clary told me.''

Jonathan's eyes flashed. ''How nice.''

''She thinks she can give you a chance.''

Jonathan looked surprised at that. But he replied with, ''And you told her she's stupid?''

''I don't trust you. But I trust_ her_.'' Jace kept his gaze on Jonathan, trying to bite down the anger and hatred rising in him. ''So I warn you, you may think you can chalk everything you did up to having demon blood-''

''I _never _said that,'' Jonathan interjected harshly. He actually looked angered by the suggestion.

Jace nodded. ''Good,'' he said. ''Because any bastard who shifts the blame onto something other than himself is irredeemable.'' he inhaled sharply before continuing. ''So I warn you, the first step out of line, the first mere hint of you causing any sort of harm and/or trouble-''

''You'll kill me?'' Jonathan guessed.

Jace shook his head. ''Clary probably will want to,'' he said. ''But I'll ask her to let me handle it. And if she agrees…'' Jace lowered his voice, staring at Jonathan. ''Our educations weren't that different, _brother dear. _I will make sure you will have something to remember us by before we send you back to Hell.''

Jonathan stiffened at the mention of Hell, but other than that he didn't look fearful. He simply eyed Jace as he slowly turned to leave. Just as he was about to close the door, Jonathan spoke. ''Jace.''

Jace looked at him, his fingers tightening on the doorknob. He hated the sight of him, hated everything about him. This must've shown in his expression, but Jonathan didn't seem to notice. He just stared at him blankly. ''You promise?''

Jace managed a stiff nod before exiting, slamming the door loudly behind him.


	23. Sibling Chatter

**Chapter 23**

''You really think Jonathan can be good?'' Max asked as Clary prepared to leave with her books.

Clary looked at Max. Short as she was, Max was already catching up to her in height. Yet there was still something about his face that showed how young he was.''I think he deserves a chance,'' she said. ''Just like anyone else.''

Max nodded. ''So, you're not angry with me?'' he asked.

''Angry?'' Clary was bewildered. ''Max, no. If anything, I am immensely grateful.''

Max didn't look convinced. ''Really?''

She nodded seriously. ''Really.'' Clary couldn't begin to imagine what would have become of her if Max hadn't brought Jonathan back. Would her memories have slowly come back on their own accord? Or would she have forever felt that horrible dread and wrongness?

Max smiled in relief. He said goodbye and promised to stay put until Isabelle and Jace returned. Clary watched him disappear back into the Institute before walking away down the street.

As she walked, her mind couldn't help but wander to something Luke had said earlier that morning. Was she sure her memories weren't connected to Max bringing Jonathan back? Perhaps Jonathan coming back to life had been the cause.

_Doesn't matter, _She scolded herself. _What's done is done._

Clary tried to push the thought of her parents out of her mind. They hadn't said anymore to each other since Clary had locked herself in her room. When she had texted Jace, she had simply slipped out the front door while Jocelyn and Luke were in the bedroom. It wasn't until she was halfway to Taki's she had bothered to send a text informing them of her whereabouts.

She wasn't used to fighting with her mother. Sure, they argued about curfews, about going to the Pandemonium, but never something like this. Even when Jocelyn had come to Idris after Magnus cured her and they fought in Amatis' kitchen Clary hadn't felt like this. This feeling of doubt, of wondering where exactly she was supposed to go from here.

Clary's feet had led her to a park. She tossed her books and bag on a bench and sat down, burying her face in her hands. Her head hurt. The few bites she had eaten at Taki's sat uncomfortably in her stomach. She felt as thought there were a million things she had to do, but she didn't know what they were.

_'__She suspected Valentine was alive.'_

_If the bones of Michel Wayland hadn't convinced her of her husband's death, why would the bones of a little boy convince her of her son's?_

_There couldn't have been any bones, _Clary thought with horrible clarity_. Or, at least not real bones. Glamours, maybe. But not real bones._

Clary sighed and straightened up, throwing her hair back over her shoulders and out of her face. Her hair band must've slipped off her wrist last night at Jace's, and she'd been to scattered at home to grab another. She stubbornly stuffed her books in her bag, ignoring the thoughts she'd just had. She didn't want to think about Jocelyn possibly knowing Jonathan had been alive. And she certainly didn't want to think about that boy…

Getting to her feet, Clary knew where she had to go. Despite not wanting to think about the boy, she needed to know if he was alive. And her brother was the only one who would know.

Clary made her way slowly to the lot. As she approached, she tried to contact Jonathan. _You there?_

_Yeah, _he replied almost immediately. _Where are you?_

_Outside. _There was no response as Clary reached where the door was. Before she could reach for the handle, the doorway appeared.

Jonathan opened the door for Clary to enter. ''Is something wrong?'' He asked as he closed the door behind her.

Clary turned to look at him. The mixture of familiarity and uncertainty rose up in her again. ''Not exactly,'' she replied. He sat on the arm of the couch and watched as she shrugged her bag off her shoulder and onto the floor. He wouldn't quite meet her gaze. ''I- I told my family…''

Jonathan didn't seem surprised at this. He simply nodded. ''What did you tell them?''

''Well, that I know you.''

''Clarissa-'' Jonathan paused for words. Clary noticed his fingers drumming against each other, their nails digging into the skin. ''Do you think all that I did was because of demon blood?''

Clary blinked in surprise. ''Do you think that?''

Jonathan laughed without mirth. ''It would be nice story,'' he mused. ''But no, I don't.''

''Then why would you think I did?''

''Just the impression I got.''

''From who? Me?'' Clary approached the couch, sitting on the floor and leaning on the coffee table. ''I don't think that.''

''Then what do you think?'' Jonathan managed to look her in the face, and Clary was a little startled at how he looked. Still pale, still sickly. ''No matter what we've remember of before, it doesn't change what happened, the things I did. Max might be alive but I still killed him. I still controlled Jace. Lucian's sister is still dead. And you-''

He broke of, looking back at his hands again. Clary needed no reminders of what he had tried to do to her. ''All of that doesn't just get erased,'' he concluded in a low voice.

Clary nodded. ''I know,'' she said. ''Just because it helps me to think about the demon blood being the cause doesn't mean I believe it to be true. Not entirely.'' She tilted her head, trying to catch his eye. ''But it works both ways, Jonathan. It wasn't entirely your fault either. Our memories, they show that had we found a way to get you away from Valentine, you could've been different. Those things didn't need to have happened. I think that you gave into the darkness inside you and now it's gone. I think you can start over.''

''And how do you know that I won't turn out to be the same?'' Jonathan challenged. ''After all, Valentine was human, wasn't he? Nothing he did had anything to do with demon blood in his veins.''

Clary shook her head. ''Valentine never doubted his mission,'' she countered. ''And he never would have sat here listing his crimes trying to convince his little sister that he's a bad person.'' Jonathan stared at her. ''Bad people don't wonder if they are bad people. They don't stop to evaluate like you just did. They don't show remorse.'' Jonathan continued to stare at her. ''What?''

He shrugged. ''You just called yourself my little sister.''

Clary blinked. She had. And it had rolled right off her tongue. ''Well, I am aren't I?''

Jonathan looked away again, but this time with a smile. ''Now that that's settled,'' Clary said, sitting back on her legs on the floor. ''There's something I need to ask you.''

''About what?''

''The boy,'' Clary said. Jonathan turned to her again. ''The boy with no pupils.''

Jonathan nodded as he thought. ''Last time I saw him was right before the Mortal War,'' he said. ''Valentine went to visit him. He thought maybe his gift of prophecy would help.''

Clary felt her heart sink. ''So he's alive?''

''As far as I know.'' Jonathan noticed her expression. ''What is it?''

Clary shook her head. ''I don't know. It's a little worrisome knowing he's around.''

''You want to track him down?'' Jonathan seemed to brighten at the idea. ''A little reunion?''

''Yes,'' Clary said with a laugh. ''Let's poke the bear with a stick.''

''I don't see why not. He no doubt knows about us remembering.''

''True.'' Clary cocked her head to the side. ''Why did he intervene?''

''I don't know. It hasn't all come back yet.'' A silence fell over them. ''Clarissa,'' Jonathan began again. ''Are you asking about him because you told Jocelyn?''

Clary looked at the table. ''She knew,'' she said softly. ''Not just from you coming to our apartment but before she even left Idris-''

''Clary.'' Clary looked up and met Jonathan's gaze. He shook his head. ''Please don't-''

''She knew you weren't dead,'' Clary said, saying it aloud for the first time. ''All along.''

''She might've suspected,'' Jonathan consented. ''But knowing for certain…''

''You were her child!'' Clary felt her anger from that morning rush back. ''She should've gone on the off chance! Instead she had a pathetic ritual where every year she'd cry over a lock of hair!''

''She chose you!'' Jonathan shouted back. ''She picked you over me, Clary.''

Clary stared at him. ''I can't believe you are defending her!''

''It's not your battle,'' Jonathan said. ''You don't know the whole story about the days before she left. So please, don't try and be angry for me. You don't know and I really don't want to be the reason you and your mother fight.''

''Jonathan-''

''Please just leave it.''

It was only because the wording was that of her own plea to her mother that Clary stopped talking. Jonathan was right, it wasn't her place to be angry. Her life could've been very different had Jocelyn taken Jonathan with her, but Clary couldn't exactly complain about her upbringing. Jocelyn had done everything she could for Clary, and Clary's position still stood: she couldn't throw all that back in her face.

She let out a reluctant sigh. ''Alright.'' She unfolded her legs and got to her feet. ''I better leave. Everything at home…'' she trailed off, but Jonathan nodded understanding. Clary was just picking up her bag when she turned back to him. ''You have food here, right?'' Jonathan nodded again. ''And clothes?''

''Why do you ask?'' Jonathan said, glancing down at his same dirty clothes he wore yesterday.

''No reason.''

''There's stuff upstairs,'' he replied, motioning to the staircase. ''I have everything I need.''

''Good.'' Clary went towards the door. ''Bye.''

''Bye, Clary.''

Clary smirked over her shoulder. ''Did you notice?''

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. ''Noticed what?''

''During the conversation,'' Clary said. ''You started calling me Clary.''

Jonathan blinked before replying in a mocking tone, ''Well, you are aren't you?''

Clary laughed.


	24. Disastrous Conversations Part 3

**Me: Thanks to Guest Reviewer and OliviaWhite55 for taking the time to review! It means a lot. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Chapter 24**

Isabelle sat in Alec's and Magnus' living room. She had more or less informed them of the conversation at Taki's, telling them about Clary's adventure last night and her returned memories. She now waited, watching them process the news.

After a moment's pause, Magnus let out a heavy sigh and got to his feet. ''I need a drink,'' he announced wearily, walking towards the kitchen. He clasped Alec's shoulder as he passed.

Alec sat still, his chin atop his clasped hands. He said nothing for a minute. Then two minutes. Then three. Isabelle finally broke the silence. ''Okay, you are starting to freak me out here.''

Alec rubbed his hands together and got to his feet. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, and then finally found the words he was looking for. _''HAS SHE LOST HER GODDAMNED MIND?''_

Isabelle scrunched up her face and leaned away from Alec, rubbing her ear. ''I know-''

_''__WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL IS SHE THINKING?'' _Alec continued. _''I MEAN SERIOUSLY?''_

''Neighbors, sweetheart,'' Magnus said upon reentering the room. He had two glasses in his hand, one of which he handed to Alec.

Alec paused shouting long enough to down the alcohol in a single gulp. He slammed the glass down on the coffee table before looking at Isabelle expectantly. _''Well?''_

''Are you quite done?'' Isabelle asked.

Alec scowled. ''_No._ How could Clary buy any of that crap?'' he continued, beginning to pace. ''How stupid and idiotic-'' he stopped as he caught Magnus' expression. ''What is it?''

Magnus was leaning against one of the wooden supports of the room. He took a slow sip of his drink before answering. ''It's not entirely idiotic,'' he said carefully.

Alec blinked in astonishment. ''Excuse you?''

''Clary remembering things,'' Magnus clarified. ''The idea of her getting her memory back is not out of the question. It actually makes sense.''

''That's what Jace said,'' Isabelle put in. Alec stared at them in openmouthed shock.

''Jace wasn't appalled at this?'' he asked in disbelief. He scowled again as a thought occurred to him. ''He knew, didn't he?''

''Well-''

''Oh my god!'' Alec pulled at his hair. _''Has everyone here suddenly lost their minds?''_

''Maybe we just need to calm down-'' Magnus began.

''Calm down? Jonathan Morgenstern is alive and kicking and we're just supposed to go _okay?''_

''Of course not,'' Isabelle said bitterly. ''As I was going to say before you completely _lost_ it, Jace and I discussed it. We think we need to tread carefully.''

Alec scoffed. ''Tread carefully? That is the grand idea here? Tread carefully?''

''We can't just kill her brother in front of her!''

''He is not her brother!'' Alec protested. ''He is the guy who tried to kill her, us, and the world!''

''Alec-''

Magnus cut Isabelle off with a wave of his hand. ''Really, there must be more to it than that.''

Isabelle shrugged helplessly. ''From what Jace said and how Clary acted this morning, Jocelyn must've really come down hard on Clary.''

Alec threw his hands in the air. ''Thank god. A sane person.''

Magnus grabbed his arm and lowered it again. ''You really need to get a grip.''

''No matter the validity of these memories,'' Isabelle went on. ''Clary needs us. We are all agreed trusting Jonathan for a second is a bad idea, but we can't just kill him.''

''Why not?'' Alec challenged.

''Because Clary would flip.''

''She already has.''

Isabelle frowned at her brother. ''And Max would too.''

''Then he's crazy too.''

''So what do you want to do, Alec?'' Magnus asked wearily. ''Go in there and cut his throat?''

''To start with,'' Alec said. ''Then knock Clary upside the head. And Max. Hell, Jace too for not telling us in the first place.''

Magnus spread his hands. ''And here I didn't think you had a plan.''

''Alec,'' Isabelle said, hands on her chest. ''I _love _that plan. With all my heart. I want to _marry_ that plan. But that plan will cause our little brother and Clary to never speak to us again.''

''They'll be alive though, won't they?'' Alec replied haughtily. Isabelle sighed in response.

''Why though?'' Magnus asked. ''Why do they care so much?''

''What do you mean?'' Isabelle asked.

''Why do we care?'' Alec asked.

Magnus gestured as he talked. ''Clarissa remembers some memories of her brother,'' he said. ''So that explains her reluctance and wanting to give him a chance. But your brother? Why would he care?''

''Because he brought him back,'' Alec replied impatiently. ''He brought him back and feels guilty for leaving him in the Seelie's prison because _he_ is a decent human being while Jonathan-''

''Alright.'' Magnus held up a hand for Alec to stop. ''I understand.''

''Well, now that everyone is on the same page…'' Isabelle stood up. ''I will take my leave.''

''That's it?'' Alec said as his sister walked away. ''We are just leaving it at this?''

Isabelle shrugged. ''We have a plan.''

''The plan sucks.''

''Cheers to that.'' Magnus downed the last of his drink.

…

It was mid afternoon before Clary went back home. She had managed to kill some time reading in the park, but she couldn't focus on demons and runes while her home life was so unsettled. So swallowing her anxiety, she had started home.

Given the time of day, Luke would be at the bookstore. Only Jocelyn would be home. Clary didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The apartment door clicked shut behind her. She shrugged her bag off her shoulder and onto the floor, not trusting the weight of the books on the hook. She then walked carefully into the living room.

Her mother was sitting there on the couch, her back to Clary. She turned to look at her as she entered. There was Chinese takeout on the coffee table. Jocelyn gestured to it. ''Lunch?''

Her tone was plain. It was impossible to gauge her anger behind it. Clary didn't meet her mother's eyes as she walked around the sofa, sitting down on the other side of it and accepting the container her mother handed her.

Jocelyn sighed as she stared straight ahead. ''Clary,'' she said. ''There's something you need to understand…''

''Mom, please don't.''

Jocelyn shook her head. ''What you said before, about me having suffered enough, I need you to know I appreciate the sentiment. But my story…'' she trailed off for a second, searching for words. ''I want it to be simple. It would be great if it happened like you said. I lived with an abusive husband, I lost my child, and now I get my happily ever after with the man I've always loved and being with my daughter. But there was more to it, Clary. I didn't always love Luke. I loved Valentine. And while I may have stopped the Uprising, I didn't see it through, did I? And I certainly was part of the reason it got as far as it did.''

Clary was silent as her mother continued. ''I don't want you to pity me, Clary,'' Jocelyn said. ''I don't want you to think you have to hide things from me. Does it worry me you are a Shadowhunter? Of course it does. But I know you are capable. I know you are strong. So even though the idea of Jonathan being back terrifies me, and the idea of you not only have memories of him before everything that happened, but that you think he can change-''

''Mom,'' Clary finally interjected. ''I _know_ he did horrible things. _I know_. But the things I remember…'' Clary shook her head. ''They don't excuse his actions by any means. But they make me wonder if he had had us…'' Jocelyn closed her eyes at that. Jonathan's words ran in Clary's ears, but she had to ask. ''Mom, I'm not judging. I'm not trying to hurt you. But please tell me- did you suspect? When Valentine burned the manor down, did you suspect Jonathan was alive?''

Jocelyn let out a trembling breath. Clary was afraid she's made her angry, but instead she noticed tears on her face. ''I didn't let myself entertain the thought,'' she admitted quietly.

''When I came to New York,'' she went on. ''I found a job as a waitress in a crappy restaurant in a crappy neighborhood. I lived in a little hovel above the place. I did nothing but work and sleep. When I was six months pregnant with you, I gathered my money and pawned some of the jewels I took with me from the manor and started looking for an apartment.'' Jocelyn inhaled sharply. ''I stared looking at six months pregnant. I didn't buy a place until you were two months old.

''Every place I looked at I kept thinking 'it's to small.' I didn't know why until I realized it was because I knew it was to small for three people. Because I knew it should be three people. I knew there should be a toddler bed next to the crib I was planning on buying you.

''I was afraid of Jonathan, Clary. I knew I was. I told you in Idris I tried to do well by him regardless and I did- but I'd be lying if I said my best was very good. I know there were times I was a horrible mother, and Valentine a horrible father. There was a time people had to intervene and say as much to us. So when I saw the burned mansion, I knew Jonathan was gone. I didn't let myself think about if Valentine had him or if he was dead because it didn't matter. Either way I had lost him.

''But the impact of not having him didn't hit me until I was searching for apartments. Looking for a bedroom that would fit one kid instead of two, one bed instead of two. And I knew as soon as I settled on a place, I was giving up. I was admitting failure. I was accepting the fact I lost my son.''

''But if you thought he was alive-''

''Clary,'' Jocelyn's voice was barely a whisper. ''The one thing about Valentine that made him better than me was that he loved Jonathan. And I knew if he was alive, Valentine would be better to him than I could've.''

Clary shook her head. ''I don't believe that.''

Jocelyn scoffed. ''I'm glad,'' she said. ''That means maybe I've changed.'' She sighed again. ''The idea of Jonathan being human is an idea I will never be able to grasp. It is all sorts of wrong, Clary. I know it is. But please understand that it's not because I don't want to.''

Clary wanted to say a thousand things. She wanted to push the matter, to hear more about her mother's life after the Uprising, to imagine all the ways things could've gone right. But Jonathan's words rang in her ears; this wasn't her story. This wasn't her place.

She sighed and moved closer to her mother. She rested her head on her shoulder, tilting her Chinese container to her. ''Sweet-and-Sour-Chicken?''

Jocelyn gave a weary chuckle as she kissed her daughter's head.


	25. A Seed Of Destruction

**Me: Thank you for reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter! **

**Chapter 25**

Jonathan leaned on the arm of the sofa, his fingers wearily drumming the fabric. It had been hours since Clary left, but he couldn't help rethinking their conversation, playing it over in his head in disbelief.

She called herself his little sister. He had called her Clary. That familiarity that haunted his mind, the memories of a time when they had been close echoed against the more recent horrors. She hadn't been looking to erase the past, but to change the present. To give him a second chance. _Atonement. Redemption._

Even Jace was willing. And God forbid he screwed it up, Jace would never let him hurt Clary again.

_This could work. _Jonathan could barley process the thought. He could live. He could atone. He didn't have to go back to Hell. He could make this work.

Jonathan forced himself to sit up. His body screamed with pain, but he ignored it and stood. What did pain matter? He would heal, unlike the people he killed. He deserved this pain. This was apart of his atonement, apart of his punishment. And really, what was this pain when he was getting a life? A sister?

''You really think it's that simple?''

Jonathan knew that voice. He clenched his fists and turned around slowly, looking at the person leaning against the staircase.

The Seelie Queen smiled at him. As she studied him, he felt a shiver run down his spine. He swallowed the dryness in his mouth before asking, ''How did you find me?''

She gave a light laugh. ''What a stupid question,'' she remarked airily. ''Forget the fact you were my prisoner, your_ sister_ rescued you. It's not like I don't where she lives.'' She straightened up, taking a step towards him. ''Now I ask you again: do you really think it is that simple?''

''Is what simple?''

Her smile broke out wider. ''I like to keep an eye on my prisoners,'' she explained, ''and see all their thoughts. You were just thinking about Clary and Jace and about how you can live. Be redeemed. Which prompts my question: do you really think it is that simple?''

Jonathan watched her carefully as she took another lazy step forward. ''It's all so superficial with you,'' she continued. ''You think changing your name or a trip down memory lane is all it takes to change things. That's not how it works, my love. Not how it works at all.'' A sneer crossed her face. ''Especially not with _humans_.

''They are fickle creatures,'' she went on, tracing her fingers on the kitchen island. ''They will say one thing at one time and then another at a another time. They don't know how to commit. They don't know how to _savor_ anything.'' The Queen let out a laugh as a thought occurred to her. ''Well, perhaps Clary does.''

''What does that mean?'' Jonathan asked in a measured tone. The Queen looked at him hungrily before taking another step closer.

''Does she really strike you as the type to just _give_ a second chance?'' The Queen asked. ''Because if _I_ were her, I would want to cause you as much pain and suffering as possibly. Yes, if _I_ were her, I would want to lure you along like dear Max had; with promises of atonement and redemption. And then, just as you begin to hope for the impossible…'' she leaned in close to Jonathan, whispering in his ear, ''_I_ would want to _crush_ you.''

Jonathan closed his eyes as the Queen backed away again. ''She doesn't want that,'' he protested softly.

The Queen nodded thoughtful. ''Do you know for certain though? Is not she too a Morgenstern? And after all,'' she lowered her voice again, lacing her every word with taunting, ''Do you not deserve it?''

Jonathan glared hard at the Queen. ''Clary isn't like that,'' he repeated.

The Queen laughed. ''Indeed,'' she agreed. ''But _I_ am.''

Her suggestion was suddenly becoming clear to Jonathan. She stepped toward him again, this time eliminating any space between them. She ran her hands up his arms, staring into his face. ''Can you honestly tell me,'' she asked, pressing her forehead against his. ''That you believe this is real?''

Goosebumps broke out on Jonathan's skin as the Queen traced her lips down his cheek. ''Do you really think you could've gotten away from me?'' she breathed on him. ''That any of this could be true, that you could really have a sister who once loved you, and that you could have her back again?''

Tears pricked at Jonathan's eyes as the Seelie Queen dug her nails into his arms. Her hair smelled of wet earth and poisonous lilies. Her lips found his and he could feel them move as she spoke. ''Do you really think you can be redeemed, Demon Child?''

Jonathan was shaking. He could see the Burren, making hundreds of people drink from the Infernal Cup. He could see Jace, fighting him in the woods in Idris, declaring his hatred for him in the kitchen. He could hear Max's last exhale of breath before his body fell to the floor. He saw Clary, her voice angry and defiant as her body trembled while he tore at her clothes. He saw Raphael as he stabbed him through. He smelled the remains of his home as Valentine burned it down, saw his face as he considered whether he would take Jonathan with him. He saw Jocelyn, felt her hesitation as she bent to kiss him one last time. He saw the empty cave in Hell.

Could he be redeemed?

''I already know my fate,'' he replied shakily, some of his old arrogance in his tone. ''So I might as well try.''

There was silence as his response resonated with the Queen. Then quite suddenly, she pushed him back.

Jonathan stumbled, his back hitting the counter top, worsening a bruise already there. ''_Trying_,'' the Queen laughed. ''How _novel_.''

With a wave of her hand, the books on the shelves flew off and were thrown at Jonathan. He raised his arms to protect his face but they still pelted him on all sides. ''You think you can _try _for your sister_,_ while your body attempts to function without the demon blood that has sustained it for years.'' Jonathan managed to grab a book out of the air and throw it at the Queen, but simply by snapping her fingers she made it vanish.

Jonathan made to move into the kitchen, his instincts urging him to find a knife, anything, something. The Queen clenched a fist. All the closed cabinets rattled. Jonathan yanked at a drawer but it would not budge. The Queen's fingers snapped again and the shelf of dishes came crashing down, leaving Jonathan in a rain of broken glass. He retreated out of the kitchen, tripping over a book and falling to the floor. He managed to catch himself on his hand and stand up again, but not before he felt something in his wrist give out.

The next thing she hurled at him was the coffee table. Jonathan evaded it quickly just in time for it to hit the wall, splintering into pieces. Jonathan made to grab a plank of the wood, but his body seized with pain. He was still recovering from the last fight and his injuries besides. He couldn't do this.

The Queen knew this and laughed again as she retrieved the wood Jonathan had wanted. She picked it up and set her fingers alight with fire magic, watching Jonathan's face as she burned the only makeshift weapon in sight. ''What, no wings this time, my love?'' With glee she threw the embers in his direction.

They landed on his skin and made him gasp. Before he could recover himself the Queen flicked her hand again and he went backward, falling onto the staircase and cracking his head against a step. Through watery vision, Jonathan watched the Queen meander over to him, her head cocked to the side as she looked at him.

''You know,'' she began in a conversational tone as she placed her hands on the steps on either side of his head. ''I thought having you in my prisons would be the best form of revenge.'' Jonathan made to kick her, but with an incline of her head he suddenly froze. She hooked her legs around him, sitting on top of him. ''But now,'' she purred, taking an index finger and stroking his cheek. ''Now I know what would be best.

''You think you might as well try for redemption? That since you have already seen Hell, you have nothing to lose? Well, you shall see how wrong you are. Hell is a sentence. It is an answer to the question. What you are striving for is eternal Purgatory. You will strive to be good, strive to redeem yourself, but you shall see that you will always fall short of the mark. It will never be enough. You will never be enough. Not fully human, not fully demon- you will forever be caught between Heaven and Hell. So I will leave you to strive, my love. Strive until your very being is screaming for it all to stop.''

She bent her head close to him. ''And when you do,'' she whispered. ''I will _laugh_ with joy.''

She kissed him then, but not a kiss of love or desire. It was the kiss of an enemy, a kiss of ownership. Jonathan could feel her hatred for him in the kiss. Her taunting words couldn't have said her thoughts anymore elegantly. _I own you. I beat you. I destroyed you._

The Queen straightened up slowly, taking her fingers from Jonathan's cheeks and raking them down his neck. ''Remember this,'' she said. ''Remember this moment.''

She got up then, and Jonathan watched her go without moving. Her poise and air was a stark contrast to the trashed room. She walked away with the confidence she had done her job. She had planted the seed for her enemy's destruction, bringing justice for the havoc he had wrecked on her kingdom. And she had all of eternity to watch him fall.

….

Jonathan had tried to get off the stairs, but all he had managed was to climb weakly up another step. He laid there now, trying to focus on his breathing and not drown in the pain flooding his mind.

Any recovery he had made was gone from the Queen's attack. His body hurt as much as it had when he had been in her prisons. And his chest- he couldn't quite catch his breath. He wondered if it was from the demon blood or if he was going into shock.

_'__Does your sister strike you as the type to just give out second chances?'_

_'__Is not she too a Morgenstern? After all, don't you deserve it?'_

_'__Do you really think you can be redeemed, Demon Child?'_

_'__Do you really think any of this is real?'_

Jonathan closed his eyes, his breaths hitching. The world seemed to be spinning. He would not listen to the Queen. She wanted him to doubt, wanted him to break. He would not listen, he would not listen…

….

Time seemed to fade in and out like the world. One second afternoon light filled the room, then evening, then the moon showed it's face. Jonathan didn't move through all of it. He couldn't. There was nowhere to go, no one to call. He hadn't wanted to play games. And this was a game. The Queen's game. Even if this all was real, it was still her game. Her game to watch him try and be something he couldn't, something he never could be. He didn't want to play games.

….

Jonathan tasted blood in his mouth. His back felt wet again, no doubt old wounds reopened. He was losing blood, more blood then he had to give. He was going to die. He would die here, on these steps. Back to Hell, back to his eternal answer. He would never be redeemed, never reach redemption, But at least he remembered…

_Clary ran towards him, her pigtails flying behind her. She threw her arms around him. ''I haven't seen you in forever! How are you here?''_

_Jonathan stumbled back as he wrapped his arms awkwardly around her. The sight of his little sister always made something inside him give, as if a part of him he hadn't realized was frozen suddenly melted. He smiled at her pouting face as she waited for an explanation. ''Had some free time,'' he said simply. ''After all, didn't you say birthdays were illegal to miss?''_

_Clary grinned widely and clasped her hands. ''What are we going to do?''_

_''__Well, you are eleven now. I can't give you the proper mark cause your mother will probably notice that. But there are other marks…''_

_They had several hours before Clary would have to go home. He showed her healing runes, rune to make her eyesight sharper, and a rune to make her immune to fire. They practiced signs, for Shadowhunters never knew when they might have to communicate in secret. Clary pelted him with questions about Downworlders and demons, her hunger for knowledge of the Shadow World barely contained. _

As the world faded out again, Jonathan formed one last thought. _At least I remembered. Even if it's not real, at least I remembered…_


	26. Idiot and Aid

**Me: Thank you OliviaWhite55 for taking the time to review! I hope you enjoy this chapter! **

**Chapter 26**

Over the course of the next few days, Clary felt as though all her relationships were on thin ice. She supposed it was an improvement to how she had been feeling. Namely, worrying everyone was going to pick up on the fact something was wrong with her. What was different now however was that they all clearly did think something was wrong with her, but were afraid of saying so.

Despite their talk, Clary could sense the tension in her mother as they went about their business next morning. Luke was harder to read, but when she announced she was leaving, he had asked a little to forcefully where she was going. When she replied with the Institute he had visibly relaxed.

Jace and Isabelle seemed normal at first. Though during their training, Clary kept feeling like every time she turned away Jace's expression seemed to change. Alec came by to take care of something and had wandered into the training room looking for Isabelle, and upon seeing Clary an expression of what could only be described as bewildered anger crossed his face. Before he or she could say anything, Isabelle had appeared at whisked him out of the room. Clearly she had had an idea of what he wanted to say.

The only one who gave her no weird looks was Max. He had greeted her happily and had even had the audacity to ask her about Jonathan in front of Jace. Clearly, Max did not give a single care about his siblings trepidation concerning Jonathan. And if he noticed their changes in demeanor, he had decided not to let it get to him. Clary had to admit she was a little impressed.

After some training, Clary had set herself up in the kitchen with her books while waiting for food. There wasn't really anything that you could eat in the Institute that didn't require some kind of assembly, so Jace had run out to grab Taki's. Just as she was making a note about Deverok Demons, Alec entered the kitchen.

He paused at the sight of her. She stopped writing to look at him. ''Um, hi?'' she greeted.

Alec bit the inside of his cheek. ''Hi,'' he said in a poor imitation of his regular voice. He went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

Clary eyed him as he kept his back to her and drank. ''Okay,'' she said, dropping her pencil into the spine of her book. ''If you have something to say, please say it.''

Alec scoffed and turned around, putting the lid back on his water. ''Why would I have something to say?'' he asked, shrugging innocently. ''It's not like anyone here has done anything _incredible stupid lately.''_

His voice dropped at the last part, clearly afraid of Isabelle or Max overhearing. Clary sighed and rested her head on her hand. ''I know it looks like that-''

''Looks like that?'' Alec shook his head. ''It's like you have no brain.''

''I have my memories back, Alec. I can't just ignore them.''

He held up a hand. ''Don't even get me _started_ on your memories.''

Clary frowned at him. ''No, don't hold back,'' she said. ''I want hear it.''

''No. Apparently that is what we are supposed to do. 'Tread carefully' because you are an _idio_t and_ insane_.''

''Who said to tread carefully because I'm an idiot?''

''We all did. Well, except the idiot part. That's mine.''

Clary glared, but she couldn't say she was surprised. ''I don't want you to hold back.''

Alec raised an eyebrow. ''Uh, believe me, you do.''

''If you have something to say, say it. You don't think I've thought it?''

''Yes, actually.''

Clary gestured helplessly. ''I brought Jonathan back. I brought him back and have these memories of him and want despite everything he has done to give him a second chance. This is after he has killed and razed and hurt me, my family, and countless others. It _is_ stupid and insane-''

''Don't forget idiotic.''

''-And idiotic. And I have no good reason.''

Alec spread his arms. ''Oh! It thinks!''

Clary looked at him apologetically. ''Except he's my brother.''

Alec lowered his hands as he looked at her downcast face. ''Is he though?'' he asked. ''No matter your memories, didn't everything that happen last year…'' he trailed off. ''Doesn't that erase it?''

Clary shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn't feel defensive anymore, only tired. And frustrated. ''The demon blood and Valentine's upbringing contributed to him doing those things. And yes,'' she continued hastily at Alec's expression. ''It was him too. Jonathan, demon blood or no, he did those things. I have no interest in arguing about him not being able to tell the difference between good and bad or debate on how demon blood affected him. If anything, my memories answer that for me. He was good. He was a good brother and capable of being told right from wrong.'' She sighed. ''Alec, he could've been different. And the reason he wasn't was in small part because of me. I want to give him a chance, _need_ to give him a chance because…'' she trailed off for a second. ''I_ really loved _my brother.''

Alec stared at her, his look of repressed judgement still on his face. ''I need to try,'' Clary said again. ''Even though there are so many ways this could blow up in my face, I need to try.''

Alec sighed. ''What about the Clave?'' he asked.

Clary swallowed a lump in her throat. ''If they find out-''

''_When_ they find out.''

''-I'll handle it.'' She raised an eyebrow at him. ''Are you going to tell them?''

''I _should_.'' Alec leaned back against the counter in a huff. ''But there is no way without dragging Max into it.''

Clary nodded. ''You do know that I am as concerned for everyone as you are?'' she asked. ''I'm not doing this without thinking.''

Alec pinched the bridge of his nose. ''I know,'' he said reluctantly. He looked at her. ''But sometimes, the way you act? It helps to be reminded.''

…..

Clary's body ached from training. Jace was insisting her footwork be perfect before he let her move on to anything else. Today she had finally got it, but not without a price.

Wearily she stumbled out of the shower, relieved to be in clean, comfortable sweats and looking forward to crashing on the couch. She sat down with a groan, clicking her phone on at the same time.

''Are you alright, Clary?'' Jocelyn asked in a seemingly normal voce from where she was on the other side of the room. She was setting up some canvas, only part of her mind on the conversation while the other part planned her next artwork.

''Yeah,'' Clary said with a smile. She could feel Luke look at her over his book. Clary tried to lose herself in a game on her phone, trying to ignore the stagnant feeling of the room. How long until this passed?

Clary let her mind slip into thinking about the future. It was as if they were all waiting, she reflected. Waiting for Jonathan to move out of line, waiting for the Clave to find out. And here she was, waiting for them to come to terms with the fact she wasn't crazy for trusting him. He was good. He was her brother…

_Clary's feet pounded the steps as she ran. The footsteps behind her quickened. She couldn't outrun them, couldn't get away. She collided with her apartment door, furiously twisting the knob. Locked. Of course. _

_Her hands were shaking as she dug into her bag. She was too slow. ''I'll take that,'' said the woman as she swiped Clary's bag. She tossed it behind her without a second look. _

_''__Wonderful,'' said the man, grinning with glee at Clary. ''The boss will certainly be happy to have found you.'' Clary backed up against the door, terror gripping her as the man reached out. _

_Without further hesitation, she managed a scream. ''Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern!''_

_Before the people could process what she just said, Clary was suddenly not in front of them. She blinked and found herself on the stairwell, her brother in front of her. She couldn't see his face, but she heard the grin in his tone. ''My sister tells me you have some business with her?'' he asked._

_The people turned to look at him. A scowl crossed the woman's face, but Clary sensed a bit of fear behind it. ''The Demon Boy.''_

_''__I prefer Jonathan.'' Jonathan turned to look at Clary, the grin she had suspected on his face. ''You okay?'' she nodded. He handed her a dagger. ''Ready?''_

Clary kept the smile off her face as she remembered the first time they had fought a real battle, the first time she had felt the battle high as they were victorious.

She was jolted back to reality when her phone rang in her hands. She straightened it up before answering. ''Hello?''

''Clary?''

''Max?'' Both Luke and Jocelyn turned to look at her as she talked. ''What is it? Are you okay?''

Max's voice seemed to tremble. ''I- I'm with Jonathan. Can you come?''

Ice seemed to grip Clary. ''What's wrong?''

''I- I don't know. But it's bad. Really bad.''

''I'll be right there.'' Clary sprang up from the couch and walked to her bedroom, ignoring her parents' calls. ''What happened, Max? Is he hurt? Are you?''

''I saw her come,'' Max admitted softly. ''In my head. I just knew she came. And so I came here and-''

''Who?''

''The Seelie Queen.''

Clary froze for a moment. Her sweatshirt was on and her bag was in her hand. ''Max, is Jonathan okay?''

''Please just come.''

Clary tightened her grip on her bag. Her nails dug into her palm. ''I'll be right there, okay?'' She clicked her phone off.

''Clary,'' Jocelyn said. She was standing in the doorway. ''What's wrong?''

''I have to go.''

Clary made to move past her mother, but Jocelyn stopped her. ''Go where?''

''Max needs help.''

''With what?''

''I don't know! Something is wrong and he called me and he needs me so I have to go.''

''Is he with Jonathan?''

Clary sighed. ''Mom, please just let me go.''

''Just answer me, Clary. Is Max with Jonathan? Is that why he's hurt?''

Anger flared on Clary's face. ''No. _Jonathan_ is the one who is hurt. Now excuse me, my brother needs me.''

Clary brushed past without further hesitation, not bothering to even glance at Luke's following gaze.

…

Clary's heart felt like it was jammed into her throat. She made it to the lot in record time, practically colliding into the invisible door as she shakily opened it. She stumbled into the house and froze at the sight of the place.

The only light came from the window to her left, the moon illuminating the chaos that was the room. Clary walked slowly around all the books that were thrown onto the floor, glancing down as she heard a crackle under her feet. Wood. She was stepping on what was left of the coffee table.

As she passed the couch, she saw the broken glass that littered the kitchen and left a trail of blood by the counter. Before Clary could enter, a voice spoke. ''Clary?''

Clary turned to the staircase where Max was perched. He was kneeling on the steps, and beside him…

''Oh god.'' Clary approached the stairs. She dropped her bag to the floor before walking up and around Max. She knelt next to him.

Jonathan was on his side looking very, very still. His eyes were half open, not focusing on anything. Blood was in his hair, coming from a cut on his head. It was also on his face, trickling out of his mouth. The only sign he was alive was the rapid yet shallow rise and fall of his chest.

''I found him like this,'' Max said in a whisper as Clary reached out to touch Jonathan. His skin felt cold. ''He- he hasn't moved.''

Clary nodded acknowledgement. She ran her fingers gently through her brother's hair, her ears pricking as pieces of glass fell out and clicked on the stairs. She swallowed hard and turned to Max, whose face of panic and fear perfectly matched her own feelings. ''I have my stele in my bag. Can you grab it?''

Max quickly went to do so, but his face said what Clary was thinking: would a few healing runes be enough?

Max was back in a second. He handed Clary her stele and she went to work, putting a rune on Jonathan's arm and neck before awkwardly moving up the steps to get around him and put one on his back. Through the darkness the stairwell amplified, she saw his shirt. ''Hell no.''

Jonathan's white shirt had now one huge red stain on his upper back. No doubt they were once two, each one leaking from the slits of his wings. Clary stared at the blood in horror. _That's to much blood. He's lost to much blood._

Max caught her gaze and Clary shook herself in reproach. She had to do what she could. Carefully, she put another healing rune on the back of Jonathan's neck. She wanted to put more on, in addition to some blood replacement runes, but she couldn't like this. Not while he was curled up awkwardly and in such bloodied clothes.

She moved back around and placed her stele on another step. She sat down next to Jonathan, gently pulling his head into her lap. ''Jonathan, Jonathan can you hear me? Jonathan, you have to wake up.'' He didn't move. ''Jonathan, c'mon. It's me, Clary. Please wake up. Look at me. Come on.''

Jonathan still made no movement. Blinking back tears, Clary tried something else. _Blink if you can hear me._

Clary's heart seemed to stop as she watched her brother's face. For a moment, nothing happened. Then slowly, Jonathan very deliberately blinked.

Clary sighed in relief. ''Thank god.'' She leaned forward, her forehead on his. _It's okay, I've got you. You are going to be okay._

There was no response as Jonathan closed his eyes fully, his uneven breathing the only sound in the room.


	27. Memory and Worry

**Chapter 27**

The only constant was the pain. The burning in his heart, the sharp pain in his ribs, the throbbing of his head- time echoed in and out, but the pain remained.

He heard a faint voice. He didn't know if he slept or just blacked out, but his eyes were open and he saw Max. He was talking. First to him and then somehow he was on the phone. To who? Jonathan tried to listen to the conversation but couldn't interpret the sounds he heard into words. Moments passed, ticking by with the pain being the only clear thing he was aware of. It was burning inside of him, spreading throughout his body.

The pain made time drag on, yet it couldn't have been long when another presence in the house made Jonathan's ears prick. It took him a moment to focus and realize Max was there. There or still? Had he been there before? He couldn't remember. But there was something else, something at the bottom of the stairs. Max was looking over there. Jonathan wished he could see, or at least hear what Max was saying.

Something touched his face. Warmth. He hadn't realized how cold he was. Something burned against his arm, more pain. But this was a different pain, and after the initial burning there was relief. A healing rune. Someone moved above him and he felt their stele mark him on his neck too. The sensation traveled down his spine, bringing his attention to the wetness on his back. His wings. The slits. They had reopened.

His head pounded as someone moved him. That warmth again, warmth from someone's fingers. A voice, but it was to far away. He couldn't hear it, couldn't make it out…

_Blink if you can hear me._

It sounded in his mind, making him tremble. Clary. But was it really her? Had it ever really been her?

_Shut up, _he told himself. With great effort he brought his attention back to what he could see. Darkness. It was late. They were on the stairs.

He blinked.

He could feel Clary shudder. He let his eyes fall shut as she pressed her forehead against his.

_It's okay. I've got you. You are going to be okay._

….

_Waiting until he heard the front door shut, Jonathan carefully slipped out of Clary's orange walled room and entered the living room. ''Next time, wait until she is definitely gone before calling me.''_

_Clary didn't answer him. She was sitting on the couch. Jonathan opened his mouth to speak louder but caught himself just in time to see Clary was on the phone. ''Yeah, Simon… No I'll be fine. It's just a cold…Mom won't be long… Okay, bye.''_

_She clicked off the phone and turned to face Jonathan. ''It is considered polite not to talk to people when they are on the phone,'' she reprimanded._

_''__But then what is the point of calling?'' he asked in fake misunderstanding. Clary glared at him as he came and sat down next to her. ''Who was that?''_

_''__Simon.'' Clary hung the phone on the stand on the side table. ''Mom thinks I'm hanging out with him and he thinks I'm home sick.''_

_''__The perfect alibi.''_

_''__Indeed.'' She folded her arms and looked at him. ''So, what shall we do?''_

_''__Well, since you're at death's door, I guess nothing.''_

_''__Ah ha, ah ha, ah ha.''_

_Jonathan shrugged. ''You certainly don't look okay.''_

_''__I look fine.'' Clary got up and grabbed her sweatshirt that was hanging on the back of a chair. ''Now c'mon. Or are we going to waste our day?''_

_They spent the day traipsing about the city. Despite her flushed cheeks and running nose, Clary seemed fine. That is, until they came across some Falk Demons._

_They were fast but easy to deal with, and soon they dispatched them. Jonathan turned away from the one he killed with a frown, annoyed at the interruption. He felt his heart stop as he saw his sister. ''Clary!''_

_She had slid down against a tree, her dagger in her hand. When he got to her, she was gasping heavily for breath and her previously flushed face had been replaced by a horrible pallor. She coughed, the sound horribly deep and wet._

_Jonathan knelt next to her. ''The hell?'' he asked._

_She let out a weak laugh at his manner. ''Sorry,'' she said raspingly. ''I don't feel good.''_

_''__Really? Could've fooled me.'' He sat down, letting her rest her head on his shoulder._

_''__I did fool you.''_

_''__Yes, why?''_

_She shrugged. ''I wanted to go. I didn't want a little cold to stand in the way.''_

_''__This is a little cold?''_

_''__Probably not anymore.'' She shifted a little, turning away to cough into her sleeve. ''Sorry. I'll get you sick.''_

_Jonathan waved aside the comment. ''Demons don't get sick.''_

_''__Never?''_

_''__Never.''_

_She seemed surprised at that but didn't make further comment. She buried her face back into his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her. She felt warm. ''Clary, do colds make people feel hot?''_

_''__Sometimes,'' she replied in a drowsy tone._

_Since it was clear she wasn't going to be walking anywhere, Jonathan simply wrapped her in an hug to reach and turn the ring on his finger. In a moment they were back in her apartment, standing by the couch. _

_Clary stumbled and Jonathan helped her get on the couch. She shivered, curiously cold despite the heat from her skin. Jonathan handed her a blanket from the chair and she wrapped herself in it gratefully. ''Do you want anything?''_

_Clary shook her head, closing her eyes and laying against the cushions. ''Nope. Just sleep.''_

_Jonathan nodded. ''I should go then…''_

_Her eyes snapped open again at that. ''No!'' She protested. ''Please don't. I don't want to be alone.''_

_He blinked at her. ''Your mother-''_

_''__Won't be home for hours.'' She paused to cough violently. _

_Jonathan nodded understanding as he sat down next to her. Clary closed her eyes again._

_As time went on, Clary's position shifted as she slept uneasily. Her fever climbed, no doubt from the exertion of the fighting and the running they had done. Her head was in his lap now, and in terror he watched her shiver and cry out in her sleep. He didn't know what to do. He stroked her hair and held her hand, hoping his natural coldness would cut some of her heat. This was the one time he wished Jocelyn would come back soon._

_Suddenly Clary's eyes opened. She sat up with a start and began coughing vigorously. Her whole body shook as she desperately coughed and tried to breath at the same time. When she finally stopped, she fell back against him in exhaustion. She began to cry from how awful she felt, and Jonathan held her and whispered to her soothingly. _

_''__It's okay. I've got you. You are going to be okay.''_

_…__._

When consciousness returned, Jonathan was startled at how still everything seemed. The pain, though still there, was much duller than it had been. So much so he felt disoriented by that fact along. Prying his eyes open, he saw the silvery light of night shine in through the window. He wondered if it was the same night or the next.

He attempted to sit up by pushing himself up on his hands, but winced as he remembered too late about his wrist. He relaxed back onto his pillow, staring at the bandage of his wrist and the heeling runes on his forearm. There were also blood replacement runes.

Jonathan closed his eyes again as he took a mental check of his injuries. The healing runes on his forearms and the back of his neck had taken care of much of the smaller cuts and bruises. His ribs hurt considerably less as well. He realized his bloodied shirt was gone, and the bandages on his back were fresh. He was cold, despite being under blankets.

Blankets and pillow? It was only upon this realization that Jonathan opened his eyes again and saw he was in the bedroom upstairs. A vague memory of Clary urging him to stand and helping him down the hall passed through his mind, along with a sharper memory of the pain. Jonathan blinked the scene away.

He was so cold. He fleeting thought of getting up and finding a sweatshirt of some kind to cover his bare torso, but another attempt at sitting up, this time being carful of his injured wrist, proved that impossible. All he managed was to shift himself so he was facing the other way.

He was slightly taken aback to see Clary on the other side of the bed, asleep atop the covers. Her phone was in her hands, a telling sign that she hadn't planned to fall asleep.

_''__They will say one thing at one time and then another at a another time. They don't know how to commit. They don't know how to _savor_ anything.'' The Queen let out a laugh as a thought occurred to her. ''Well, perhaps Clary does.''_

_If she wanted to kill me, she could've done it ten times over already, _Jonathan thought back at the intrusive memory. _She is not manipulating me. _

_''__Clary isn't like that,'' he repeated._

_The Queen laughed. ''Indeed,'' she agreed. ''But _I_ am.''_

Jonathan didn't believe the Queen's suggestion. He didn't believe the implication that this was all a dream, a part of her torture for him. He believed that this was real, that everything that had happened since leaving her prison was real. Then why did he still feel so unsettled? Why did some part of him keep turning the Queen's words over in his head?

_Because there is the chance she is correct._

Jonathan clenched the fist of his injured hand, the pain flaring up and distracting him from his thoughts.

Either she was an incredibly light sleeper, or his slight intake of breath from the pain was louder than he thought. In any case, Clary awoke, her gaze falling on him immediately. ''Hey,'' she said in a whisper. ''You okay?''

Jonathan found it painful to even look her in the eye. _After all, don't you deserve it? _He let his gaze rest on her hands, which were still clinging to her phone. He couldn't bring himself to speak aloud, so he replied in her mind. _Fine._

They didn't speak again for a moment. Clary began turning her phone over absently in her fingers. _How long have I been out? _Jonathan asked.

''Umm,'' Clary looked out the window, as if she too were unsure. ''I guess about 24 hours,'' she admitted.

_Max isn't still here, is he?''_

''No.'' Clary shook her head. ''I sent him home a long time ago.''

_You haven't been here all this time, have you?_

''Of course.''

Jonathan closed his eyes at that. _You should go home._

''Yes, and you should go run a marathon.''

_I don't see how the two are connected. _

''They are both impossible things that neither of us can do at the moment.''

_You can't go home? Are the buses on strike? Do your feet not work?_

Clary frowned at him. ''You know what I mean.''

_Does your family know you are here?_

''Yes.''

_And they are fine with it?_

''Yes,'' Clary said again. Almost immediately her phone buzzed.

Jonathan watched her check the message. _Is it Jocelyn?_

''What makes you think that?''

_The buzz sounded angry._

''It's the default ringtone. It sounds the same for everyone.''

_You don't personalize your ring tones? Nothing sappy for Jace?_

''No, why would I?''

_I don't know. Cole did for Oakley._

Clary lowered her phone. ''How on _earth_ do you know Cole and Oakley?''

_I was really bored one night. _Clary rolled her eyes in exasperation before finishing her text. _So?_

''So what?''

_Is it Jocelyn?_

Clary put the phone down with a sigh. ''Doesn't matter. I'm staying, okay?''

Jonathan let the matter drop. Clary stared at him a moment before reaching over and brushing some hair out of his face. ''Why didn't you call me?''

Jonathan closed his eyes. He didn't want to tell her. He didn't want to relive his conversation with the Seelie Queen anymore than he already was.

Clary seemed to sense this and didn't say anymore. She reached over and pulled his covers up. It improved the horrible feeling of cold that enveloped him. Exhaustion washed over him again and he fell back asleep.

**Me: Thank you to all who reviewed last chapter! I stopped writing for a while but have suddenly found the motivation again. I've been working on another TMI fanfic that actually takes place after this one. And in an amazing turn of events, it has actually given me ideas and helped me work out plot holes I had been having with this story.**

**I hope to work on this story more soon. If you have time, please leave a review!**

**Happy Writing! **


	28. Discovered Part 2

**Disclaimer: I OWN NO POSSESSIONS**

**Chapter 28**

Jace knew the 'jig was up' so to speak when Alec and Magnus walked in, looking worried. Robert Lightwood was right behind them. ''Good, you are all here,'' he said upon seeing him, Isabelle, and Max in the library. His voice had that special Lightwood scolding tone to it, though it was different from Maryse's spin. He help up a paper. ''Any of you want to inform me why someone sent _this?_''

Jace's heart sank a little as Robert read off the leader. The sender was completely anonymous, and all it said was that they had seen Max Lightwood retrieve the Heavenly Sword, which the Clave already knew. What they_ didn't _know was what he traded in exchange.

Robert slammed the paper down on the table. _''You brought Jonathan Morgenstern back to life?'' _he demanded.

Max trembled under his father's gaze. ''Okay, this looks bad…''

_''__And you people knew about it?''_ Robert asked them all. Jace and Isabelle both found a spot to stare at on the carpet. '_'And __none__ of you told me?''_

''So this is where you get it from,'' Magnus mused to Alec.

Alec shook his head. ''You clearly didn't see mom in the kitchen on our way up here.''

''And _you_.'' Robert turned to Magnus. ''You are on the Council! How could you not have said anything?''

''What should I have said?'' Magnus asked. ''Do you understand the situation we are in?''

''Do I?_ Did you honestly just ask me that?''_

Magnus seemed a little ashamed of his comment, but nevertheless he went on. ''If we are to announce to the world that Jonathan Morgenstern is back, it will send everyone into a panic.''

''Is your argument it shouldn't?''

''My argument is it will look bad for the Clave if you do that.'' He gestured to Max. ''It will look bad for _him_. Everyone has heard of the miraculous return of Max Lightwood- sent back by the Angels themselves. You announce that Jonathan Morgenstern returned with him, they won't believe the Angels sent him. They will believe it was the devil.''

Robert glanced at Max, who was smartly keeping his mouth shut. ''The Clave needs to take action.''

''Agreed. However, you act too quickly, you are sending the message to Downworld that you are afraid. That the new Counsel of _Downworlders_ is afraid.''

''It is hardly acting quickly. He is a criminal. He needs to be tried for his crimes.''

''Yes, _tried_. Which means a _trial;_ fair and calm.''

Robert scoffed. ''If you think any action- quick or slow- will not send everyone who hears of it into a spiral of emotions, then you are insane.''

''Behavior has to be modeled. The Clave acts like there is something wrong, everyone else will panic. At least if the Clave_ feigns_ calm, it will be something to add some stability to an already precarious situation.'' Magnus shook his head. ''There are some who are still wary of the new Downwrold representatives. You want to add more chaos?''

Robert pinched the bridge of his nose. ''We will discuss this later,'' he growled. He looked to his children. ''Whatever the result, Jonathan Morgenstern will be tried. And you all will have many questions to answer when he is.''

''He might not be able to,'' Max mumbled.

''What was that?''

Jace cast a sideways glance at his brother and was alarmed to see him looking close to tears. ''He might not be able to,'' he repeated.

''Why?'' Robert demanded.

Max bit his trembling lip. ''Because he might be dead.''

''What?'' Jace asked.

''Really?'' Isabelle questioned.

''Thank god,'' Alec huffed.

Robert held up a hand to silence them all. ''What do you mean, Max? Why? What happened?''

Max tearfully explained about the Seelie Queen paying Jonathan a 'visit'.

''The Seelie Queen?''

That opened up another topic. ''She was the one I traded Jonathan to.''

If possible, Robert looked even more grim. He turned to Magnus. ''I suppose this is what you meant by 'upsetting' Downworld?''

Magnus spread his hands. ''That and all my other points.''

''I have a suggestion; from now on, tell me the truth.''

''Sure Mr. Inquisitor,'' Magnus said. ''Though I don't see how knowing about the Seelie Queen's play in all this is at all useful. Drag the fairies any more in the muck, we will have another full blown war on our hands.''

Robert ran a hand over his face. Jace heard him swear. ''Max, is Jonathan Morgenstern alone?'' Max shook his head. ''Who's with him?''

''His sister.''

_Clary, _Jace thought in panic. Robert glared at them all.

''Oh yeah,'' Isabelle realized. ''Clary knows too. Did we not mention that?''

''Anyone else?''

''Ummm…'' they all exchanged uneasy looks. ''Jocelyn and Luke?'' Alec finally said.

Robert breathed heavily. ''_Anyone else_? Perhaps some more adults that should know better than to hide this information?''

''No, I think that's it,'' Jace said thoughtfully.

''You're sure?''

''Yes.''

''Good.'' Robert pointed to the door. ''Now just…leave. Magnus, you stay.''

Alec and Isabelle and Jace began making their way out of the room, but Max stayed put. ''Max?''

Max took a step forward. ''I- I know I screwed up,'' he said. ''But- but dad, please. I insisted Jonathan come too. I needed him. Otherwise I couldn't come home. And since being back, he hasn't done anything wrong. I swear on the Angel.''

''Max-''

''Please don't hurt him.'' Max's voice was a whisper through his tears. ''Please. I never would have let him out if he were the same person he was.''

Robert looked at him in bewilderment. ''Maxwell Jospeh Lightwood, he is a murderer. A murderer who hurt my own family. Justice will be served.''

Tears fell freely on Max's face. ''He's sorry.''

_'' '__Sorry' will never get the memory of holding your dead body out of my head!''_ Robert shouted at him. ''_Or our of your mother's! _Now leave!''

Max sobbed. Isabelle grabbed his arm and dragged him out after Jace and Alec.

….

Jonathan sat back down on his bed, gasping for breath. Really? He, the great warrior, became breathless after _getting dressed_? Stupid, human weakness.

He leaned back on his hands and blinked the spots out of his eyes. Frowning, he realized his leg was bouncing of it's own accord. Trembling. He was trembling. God, what next? This and cold he felt and his injures… Was there anything else that wanted to fall apart in him?

_''__Jonathan?''_

The sudden presence in his mind startled him._ ''Max?''_

_''__Are- are you okay?''_

Jonathan put a hand on his knee, leaning forward to make it stand still. _''Never better. Why?''_

_''__Is Clary still there?''_

_''__Why?''_

He could sense Max's hesitation. And then he told him.

Jonathan wasn't a fool. He had expected this. Well, something like this. There was no other option for him. _''Okay, Max. Thanks for the warning.''_

_''__What are you going to do?''_

Jonathan debated being sarcastic, but there was something about Max's manner that told him to do that wouldn't be good. He wasn't good at emotions even when the person was in front of him, never mind when he couldn't see them. _''What's to do? 'Que Sera' and all that crap.''_

Max was silent. _''See you soon, I expect,'' _Jonathan told him. He blocked any response before Max had the chance to speak.

Jonathan paused a moment, gathering his strength. Then he stood and carefully, painstakingly slow, made his way into the hall.

He reached the stairs and started down, hissing through the pain as he did so. _Damn two story house, _he thought as he felt his hand go numb from gripping the railing too tight.

He reached the the bottom and blinked in surprise at the living room. Other than the missing coffee table and much barer kitchen shelves, there was no trace of his and the Seelie Queen's 'interaction'. ''How'd you do this so fast?''

''Oh, you know.'' Clary stood by the kitchen counter. Her posture suggested she was uncomfortable. ''Nothing else to do.''

''I suppose going home didn't occur to you?'' he asked her. Talking hurt. There was this pressure in his chest, urging him not to speak. He pushed the feeling down.

''You okay?'' Clary asked, avoiding the question.

''Considering I died, I can't complain.'' _And will no doubt be dead again soon._

Clary scoffed. Jonathan took the opportunity to study her. She wasn't much bigger from when he knew her four years ago, though the Shadowhunter training definitely left her more fit than she would have been otherwise. Her hair was longer, and no more worn in simple pigtails. She was older. She was grown up. She had a life and didn't need him in it.

He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. He supposed it was time to try something foreign to him. Something human. Something brotherly. It was time to be selfless. ''You need to go home.''

Clary cocked her head to the side. Confusion. ''I'm not leaving you.''

''Max talked to me.''

''How? Oh, that's right. The mind link.''

''It seems the Inquisitor received a letter. From a looking-for-mercy fairy, no doubt. But the point is…he knows. The Clave knows.''

Clary's eyes got wide. Jonathan saw her clench her fists. Fear. ''No.''

''He says he heard Robert and Magnus talking. They decided to come for me, Clary. They're on their way.''

''No.'' Clary shook her head as if that decided it. ''They wouldn't just give you up-''

''Alec's leading them here.'' He shook his head at her look of anger. ''He didn't give me up. It's right. It's better-''

_''__No.''_

_''__Yes.'' _He spread his hands. ''This is what has to happen, Clary. It's okay.''

''You can go,'' she said as if he hadn't spoken. ''When did they leave? You have time before-''

Jonathan couldn't hold back a laugh. ''Reunited for a few days and I've already got you ready for life as a fugitive?''

''It's not fair!''

''Life isn't.''

''Stop arguing with me!'' She demanded. ''You shouldn't want this. You should want to live.''

''I do.''

''Then why-''

''Because _this _is my life.'' Jonathan told her. ''I lived, Clary. And I lived badly. When Max told me why he asked for me, he said- he said it was because he knew I got what I wanted. And that I would do anything for it.'' He stared at her. ''I want redemption, Clary. I want to be redeemed. And this…this is how I can get it.''

Her eyes were bright. Tears. Sadness. ''It's not fair.''

Jonathan sighed. ''Life-''

'_'__It's not fair,'' _she spat again. ''Not to me, not to Max. It's not fair.''

Jonathan was silent. He wasn't going to convince her. So he needed another stupid human tactic. Understanding. ''It's not fair,'' he admitted. He watched as she buried her face in her hands. If he was a good brother, one who had not hurt her, he would be able to comfort her. ''I'm sorry it's not.''

…

**Me: another chapter will be coming shortly because I split one chapter into two because I like the idea of chapter 30 being when we get to a new arc and I don't know but it had to be this way.**

**If you have time, please leave a review!**

**Happy Writing! **


	29. Warrior Trust

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! **

**Chapter 29**

Alec approached the lot with a mixture of triumph and dread. Triumph from the fact that Jonathan Morgenstern would soon be out of their lives again: Alec's family would be safe. Dread from the fact he still couldn't get Max's sobs of despair out of his head.

_This is for the best, _he had told himself when he watched Max wretch his arm from Isabelle's grip and run off to his room. _He'll see that eventually._

Alec had been telling himself this since then. He told himself it as Magnus and his father emerged from the library, Magnus looking defeated and his father looking stern. He repeated it over and over as he showed them to the lot Max had led them to not long ago, trying to ignore Isabelle's and Jace's uninterpretable looks as they exited the Institute. _They'll see eventually. All of them._

He remembered his conversation with Clary in the kitchen. _'I really loved my brother.' _She had been so earnest, so…set. He dug his nails into his palm. _This is for her, too._

They reached the lot. Alec groped around for the handle, surprised to find it unlocked. He led the way inside.

The atmosphere of the house seemed off to what it had been last time, thought Alec couldn't have said why. Jonathan Morgenstern was standing in front of the kitchen island, his back against it as he watched them enter. Alec put a hand on the hilt of his dagger.

Nothing was said for a moment as Robert Lightwood and Magnus entered after Alec. Alec watched Jonathan's eyes- hard, cold, green eyes- pass over each of them. Studying them all like a snake.

''Jonathan Morgenstern,'' Robert began. ''As Inquisitor of the Clave, I hereby charge you-''

His father's words became a buzz in Alec's ears. The list went on for a while. Treachery, murder, and conspiring with demons only the top three.

Jonathan's expression didn't change while the charges were being read. It was a hard look, but nevertheless vague. He might've been listening to his crimes or he might've just been doing math in his head. When Robert finally finished, he gave a nod. ''Fine then.''

He stepped forward. Alec couldn't resist flinching, nearly unsheathing his dagger. But Jonathan merely outstretched his hands, wrists crossed over each other. ''Shall we?''

Robert, his eyes flashing in suspicion, took out the enchanted handcuffs from his pocket. He began to put them on Jonathan.

Something overcame Alec, and before he knew it, he stepped forward and opened his mouth.

'' 'And every Shadowhunter has the right to a trial by their Clave or Con-Clave','' he quoted, the words seemingly coming of their own accord. '' 'And each warrior shall be treated with the trust and honesty his companion warriors received when he hunts with them'.'' At all of their baffled looks, he felt heat rush to his cheeks. ''The Book of Law, Section B 4-37.''

''Your point?'' Robert asked icily.

''I think his point is obvious,'' Magnus commented. His eyes were sparkling.

''My son can speak for himself.'' Robert's gaze hardened on Alec. ''Alec?''

Alec felt like there was a lump in his throat. Part of him was screaming at himself to shut up, the other part kept replaying Max's and Clary's heartbroken looks. ''While the law clearly states he must stand trial, it also states he must be treated with the respect and trust that his fellow warriors received when they fought side by side with him.''

''And?'' Magnus prompted.

''Clary and Max fought side by side with him.'' Alec turned to his father. ''And they clearly trust him.''

''What is your point?'' Robert demanded.

Alec was terribly aware of everyone's- including Jonathan's- gaze on him as he concluded, ''we can't arrest him. He trusted Max and because of that Max was able to return. We are bidden by law to extend that same amount of trust.''

Robert looked enraged. ''What are you suggesting we do, Alexander?''

''What the law states,'' Alec replied, his voice strong despite his feeling like he was about to faint. He turned to Jonathan. ''Do you swear by the Angel to report to Idris for your trial, may the Angels strike you down if you betray your word?''

Jonathan gave a slow blink. ''I swear.''

''That's it then.''

Alec figured he must've walked out of the house then, but he didn't remember doing it. He was very conscious of his chest feeling extremely tight. _What the hell did I just do? How the hell could I have just done that?_

Magnus was grinning next to him. ''Well done you.''

''I am an _idiot_.''

''An idiot who cares for your little brother.''

Alec gestured around weakly, wishing he could pluck the words he lacked out of the air. ''I- I- I don't-'' he sighed. ''It was pointless gesture. We both know he has to die.''

Magnus shrugged. ''Maybe. But not now. Give Max time.''

''I guess.'' Alec looked back toward the house. ''Though, Dad might be killing him now in there.''

''I'm sure he's just picking his jaw up off the floor.''

Alec groaned. ''He _should_ kill him. He should kill_ me, _too.''

Magnus just shrugged again. They were silent until Robert Lightwood emerged from the house and began walking towards them. Alec felt dread sweeping over him. ''Doesn't seem to have blood on him,'' Magnus whispered, rather unhelpfully, Alec thought.

Robert looked at Magnus. ''I wish to speak to my son alone.'' Magnus glanced at Alec and only at his nod did he withdraw.

Alec watched him go. ''Okay, so I screwed up.''

''Lot of it about, I hear,'' Robert growled.

''I'm sorry, dad. Truly, truly I am. I had no intention of saying those things I just-'' he faltered, knowing his excuses were pointless in the grand scheme of things. ''-I just hate seeing Max hurt.''

His father sighed. ''I know.''

Alec blinked. ''You do?''

''Do you really think I want him hurt?'' Robert shook his head. ''But there is no avoiding-''

''I know.''

''There is only one way for this to end-''

''I know.''

''Only one way we should _want _it to end.''

''_I know.'' _Alec felt relief. ''I know.'' They began to walk, away from the lot and back toward the Institute. ''So, what now?''

Robert was quiet for a moment. ''Magnus had a point earlier,'' he admitted. ''Perhaps feigning calm will be a good thing, and delaying will allow everyone to hide their panic.''

''Delaying for how long?''

''Idris will be busy with the Shadowhunter Academy graduates, especially with the Accessions. We will wait for that to be over, and then everyone can focus on _this_.'' Alec could sense his father's weariness. ''Let there be some celebration for a change before more horror.''

Alec gave a stiff nod. They walked on in silence. The graduations were less than two weeks away. Maybe Max and Clary would be spared pain for now, but they were only putting off the inevitable. Soon, Jonathan Morgenstern would be on trial. And every creature in the Shadow World knew there could be no other verdict than guilty.

…

**Me: I don't know where this desire to write all the time came from, but I am really enjoying it and am afraid of it ending.**

**I hope you enjoyed! If you have a moment, please leave a review!**

**Happy Writing! **


	30. Inevitabilities

**Chapter 30**

Jonathan took another breath to steady himself. He gripped the bathroom counter tighter, the cool granite now slippery from his palms. He raised his head and forced himself to try again. _My name is Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern. _He opened his mouth, and yet no sound came out.

_Stupid human, _he growled to himself. He resisted the urge to kick the vanity. He straightened up and ran his hands through his hair before trying again.

_My name-_

His throat closed up on him. Now he did kick the cabinet.

It was stupid. _He_ was stupid. There was no explanation for this sudden inability to talk other than some_ stupid human_ failing. It had happened slowly, almost without noticing those first few days, where he talked to no one. The times Clary had managed to come and see him he could talk a little, but it had hurt. Not physically, but there was just this…feeling in him, this instinct that told him that to speak was dangerous and that he better just not.

Jonathan sighed and leaned on the counter again. One more time, just to prove to himself that he wasn't weak.

''My-''

He ended on a croak. In rage, he grabbed the soap dish and flung it across the room. It collided with the tile wall with a satisfying ringing noise.

Anger was swirling in him. He was _not_ weak, he was _not_ stupid. And being afraid to talk was indicative of both those things. It was bad enough he had started relaying on those fucking blood replacement runes to help with his lack of demon blood, but now this? Any more handicaps he should reduce himself to?

He turned back to the vanity and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He bit his tongue, refusing to flinch at his reflection as he had the first time he had noticed. The ghostly pallor and shadows under his eyes were not what bothered him, nor the fading bruises from the Queen's attack. It was his eyes themselves. Two, bright, _green_ orbs in his face, almost like Clary's.

_And definitely like Jocelyn's_.

Jonathan clenched his fist and exited the bathroom before he lashed out and broke the mirror.

He went to his bed and threw himself onto it, not caring about his still healing ribs. He was cold, but refused to allow himself to get under the blankets. The cold was familiar, if not comforting. He had always been cold. Cold in manner, cold to the touch. Coldness was one of the few things that let him know he was still _him_.

Jonathan shivered._ It was easier to bear when I didn't notice._

His gaze went to the window to the bright day outside. It had been several days since the Graduation Ceremony of the Shadowhunter Academy, according to Max. Clary had given Jonathan the highlights, which for her was the moment Simon Lewis, now Lovelace, regained his memories.

_Remembered how I was the reason you all went to the Demon Realms. Remembered he lost his memories in the first place due to me sealing the borders._

Jonathan curled himself up tighter. No doubt very, very soon, his trial would be held. The large formality that would be the chance for every creature from Shadowhunter to Fairy to behold him and watch with great glee at the justice that would be served. Part of Jonathan couldn't wait. As the Queen had said, he would get his eternal answer.

_But don't you already have it? _He could hear her purring voice in his head.

Jonathan shut his eyes and pushed the thoughts away. He reveled in the quiet darkness, until another intrusive thought pointed out how Hell was so much darker.

….

Max was doing his best to feign happiness. He felt like he owed it to his family to not show how worried and fearful he was of this upcoming trial. After all, this trial was his fault. His family had been through so much and now they all had to go to Idris and be under the scrutinizing eye of the Clave. First he had to go and die and now he was putting them through _this?_ What kind of brother and son was he?

He was doing what he could to be helpful and grateful, especially since that day his father and Alec came back without Jonathan in chains. Alec had claimed it was due to law and had quoted some old boring text, but Max didn't care. He knew his brother did it for him and Clary, and it made him so very, very happy.

Of course, his father had pointed something out._ 'It's just delaying the inevitable.'_

Jonathan's inevitable trial…his inevitable sentencing…his inevitable_ death._

Max forced those thoughts aside. _One thing at a time._

Right now, he was with Alec and Magnus at their apartment, watching as they packed for the visit to Idris. He kicked his feet from where he sat on the arm of the sofa, smirking at the new toys laying around. ''I can't wait to meet my namesake.''

''I wish you'd stop calling him that,'' Alec grumbled as he began looking through one of his bags on the dinning table.

''I can't wait to meet my successor,'' Max amended. ''My doppelgänger. My stunt double. 'Max 2.0'.''

''2.0,'' Magnus said thoughtfully. He looked to Alec. ''Now _there's_ a middle name.''

''No, it's not,'' Alec said quickly. ''His name is Max, _just_ Max.''

''Just Max?'' Max looked at Magnus. ''So first name Just, middle name Max?''

''You know what, I lied. We didn't name him Max so just forget it.'' Alec zipped up his bag with a finality.

Max was worried he was teasing too much, so he changed the subject. ''Why isn't he here yet?''

''Because of rules and regulations involving warlock children and leaving Idris and coming into the mundane world,'' Magnus answered.

''How do you get around it?''

''By waiting patiently and being cooperative and being the person on the new Downworld Council who calls the shots.''

''Ah!''

''Great morals,'' Alec muttered. Max realized it might not be him Alec was annoyed at, but the situation in general. And not the one involving his new son. _It's because of Jonathan. It's because we are going there and he is going to die and he's upset that I will be upset_. Max didn't know how to comfort Alec, since if that was his thought process, it was correct in every way.

Max hopped off the arm of the sofa then. ''Well, I will see you guys later,'' he said. _When we are on our way, the condemned guy in tow. _Upset at his own choice of words, he dashed out before Magnus and Alec even had a chance to say goodbye.

Max ran down the stairs and outside as if he could outrun his worries. He didn't stop until he was two blocks away. He paused a moment to catch his breath. _How are they going to do it?_ He wondered morbidly._ I mean, the questioning can't take long- we all know the answers. So how will they execute him?_

_Execute him? _A jolt went through Max at the thought. Jonathan, executed. Jonathan…dead.

The very idea of that happening, of him_ letting _that happen, was awful. Jonathan couldn't die. He couldn't let Jonathan die. He had brought him back, and without him, he wouldn't have been able to_ come_ back. Without Jonathan, Clary would still be suffering from her lost memories. How could Max repay him by just letting him die? Letting him be killed?

_I promised him redemption and all I've done is condemn him. _

Max remembered what Clary had said when he told her about wanting to rescue Jonathan. _''Max, he killed you.''_

''_And if I thought he was the same person I wouldn't even bring this up.''_

Max didn't think Jonathan was the same person he had been. He was changed since being freed of the demon blood, had regained perspective from that dark path he had been on. He deserved a second chance. He deserved a life.

_Then I guess I can't let him die,_ Max thought firmly to himself. How he was going to stop it he didn't know, but then again he hadn't known how to come back to life and he had figured that out. One thing at a time. Somehow, he was going to keep Jonathan Christopher alive.

….

Clary felt as through there were some creature with very sharp teeth living inside her, and it was slowly gnawing on her insides. ''We're setting out for Idris in the morning,'' Maryse continued, speaking more to Jocelyn and Luke than to Clary. ''The Trial will commence the day after.''

Her parents took the news in silence. Maryse had come to their apartment to deliver this news personally, and Clary couldn't tell if it was out of concern or fear. She felt like she was being watched by all the people in the room, even Jace.

The Trial. Jonathan's Trial. It was clear everyone sitting in the living room believed in only one outcome. Logically, Clary knew there was only one outcome. And yet her throat closed up at the thought._ I can't lose my brother again. _

'_I want redemption. And this… this is how I can get it.'_

_Is this really what you want? Really, truly your only option?_

Jace was sitting on the arm of the chair Clary was on, and she could feel his fingers on her back. Though he sensed her sadness, she knew he felt the same as everyone else: Jonathan needed to die. In this situation, Jace was not on her side.

Maryse sighed, and Clary realized she must've missed the end of the information. ''Now, there is one last thing I need to ask.''

''Yes?'' Luke prompted.

But it wasn't Luke Maryse answered. Instead, she looked to Clary. ''Clarissa, are you coming to Idris?''

Clary was surprised at the question. ''Yeah,'' she answered immediately.

''No,'' Jocelyn answered at the same time.

Mother and daughter looked at each other, and once again Clary realized she was all alone. ''Clary, you can't,'' Jocelyn insisted, her look pleading. ''We both know…''

''Know what?'' Clary asked harshly as Jocelyn trailed off. ''I _have_ to go. I _have_ to be there.''

''Clary-''

''Clarissa,'' Maryse interjected. Her tone was harsh and commanding. Clary looked at her and realized Maryse was not here to spare feelings. ''You know what the outcome of this Trial will be.''

She had to swallow a lump in her throat. ''Yes.''

''You know the Clave has little to no interest in any sort of defense Jonathan Morgenstern might have to offer.''

''He's not offering a defense.''

''I am aware. In truth, the Clave had also little to no interest in whether not his sister or mother is present at this Trial. This Trial serves one purpose, and that is appearances. Jonathan Morgenstern will stand up for all the Shadow World to see and accept the punishment by his government. There is no avoiding this.''

A part of Clary wanted to be angry at this blatant statement of the situation. Another part of her was grateful at least someone was being open and honest about it. ''I know.''

''If your desire is to come and try and avoid this outcome-''

''It's not,'' she protested. _He doesn't want me to…_

''-_Your _outcome will not be pleasant,'' Maryse continued. ''However, if your desire is tied to your recent.._ remembrance_, and you wish to come in order to bid your brother goodbye…'' she eyed Luke and Jocelyn, ''I cannot imagine anyone wanting to deny you that chance.''

Clary realized she loved Maryse. She might be like everyone else and think her memories of Jonathan were suspicious, but she also was understanding. She was honest and letting her deal. Clary loved her. ''Thank you.''

Maryse got up from her seat. ''I will see you in the morning then.'' She eyed Jace. ''That _is _the right time, isn't it?''

Jace looked a little surprised, but blinked at her in innocence. ''I _think_ so.''

''Good.'' She looked back at Clary and her family. ''Good bye, then. Jace, are you coming?''

''Yeah.'' He got up and gave Clary a kiss. ''See you.''

''See you.''

Maryse and Jace walked out. Clary could feel the tension between herself and her parents and longed to break it, but before she could speak, Jocelyn got to her feet. ''I'll be right back.''

Clary watched with a sinking heart as she marched to the door after Maryse and Jace. ''Is she going to fight her?''

Luke ran a weary hand over his face. ''Maybe.''

He got up, not even looking at Clary. Clary realized the animal gnawing at her had a name: Guilt.

….

Maryse paused on the second stairwell out of the apartment building, knowing full well Jocelyn was behind them. She and Jace turned to watch her walk over to them. ''Jace, why don't you go ahead?''

''You really want to be the prey of an angry red head?'' Jace asked.

An image of Eliza and Jocelyn back at the Academy rose in her head. ''I've had years of practice.''

There was a tone in her voice Jace must've sensed to be the one that meant she wasn't in the mood to argue. With a nod he continued on his way, leaving Maryse waiting for Jocelyn.

Jocelyn came down the stairs. She stood in front of Maryse, spreading her hands. ''How could you do that?''

''Do what?''

''Just invite her to Idris? You had no right.''

''I had every right,'' Maryse argued.

''No. She's my kid and what I say goes.''

''You've been living as a mundane too long.'' Maryse gestured up the stairs. ''She's nearly sixteen. Working to be a warrior. You need to treat her like one.''

''She has been through enough crap without having to attend an execution!''

''She wants to go!''

''Doesn't make it a good idea!''

''What do you think about her memories?''

Jocelyn blinked. ''Excuse me?''

''Her memories,'' Maryse said, ''what do you think about them? Do you believe they are true? Do you believe she is under some sort of spell to think that they _are_ true?''

Jocelyn looked baffled. ''I don't know.''

''Wrong.''

''What?''

''You're wrong.''

''I didn't answer the question!''

''That's because it's the _wrong_ question! It does not matter if her memories are real or not, it does not matter if she views Jonathan as her brother or as her enemy. What matters is he is the boy she didn't know existed, who came into her life only to destroy it. She needs to be at that meeting so she can see him accept his punishment and make peace with the fact that she will never have the life she could've had. The life she _should've_ had.''

'' 'Should've had'?'' Jocelyn crossed her arms. ''What the hell does that mean?''

Maryse was not interested in pursing this conversation. ''You know what it means.''

''Yeah, it sounds like blame.''

''I don't remembering mentioning blame.''

''Do you blame me for Jonathan?'' Jocelyn's tone actually sounded curious underneath her anger. ''Do you blame me for what happened to him?''

Maryse inhaled sharply. ''Valentine experimented on him.''

''Is that a no?''

''It is what it sounded like.''

Jocelyn grabbed her arm. ''Is that a no?''

'Let go of me.''

''Then tell me yes or no!''

''_I don't know!''_ Maryse screamed at her. ''All I know is if I went back to my house the night of the Uprising and it were on fire,_ God himself _couldn't have stopped me from walking in there to make sure my son was alright.''

The anger and horror on Jocelyn's face couldn't have been put into words. ''I thought he was dead.''

''But you didn't_ know_.'' Maryse's vision blurred from tears. ''You didn't _know._''

The shock of Maryse's words made Jocelyn's grip on her arm slacken. Maryse bushed her off and walked away, her footsteps on the metal stairs echoing throughout the stairwell.

Maryse had to lean against the wall outside and remind herself to breath. She had had no intention of saying that to Jocelyn. Never, ever did she ever allow herself to even _think_ those things. It were as if the knot of emotions that had festered in her since the days of the Circle had risen up in her, as if her young twenty year old self had done the screaming she had longed to do ever since that night. The night that had changed her life forever.

_Maryse could feel the horror as it filled the room. ''What do you mean, dead?'' Robert demanded._

_Maryse's heart stopped as the Inquisitor shook her head. There was a buzz in her ears as they were told about the burned mansion, the bones found. The bones of Clarissa and Granville, of Valentine and Jocelyn. _

_Of Jonathan Christopher._

_Dead. They were dead. All of them. Grandparents, parents, and child. Valentine had killed them all and himself. _

_In the days of preparing for their exile, Alec had been as uncomprehending of his playmate's death as he had been of Cèline's and Stephen's. ''Where's Jonathan?'' He would walk around asking, his two year old voice lisping his words. ''When can I play with Jonathan?''_

_Maryse had been at a loss for what to say to him, and longed for him to stop asking. And yet she feared him ceasing to ask, because then it would mean that- just like with Cèline and Stephen- her little boy forgot. _

Maryse cleared her throat and wiped her face. The past was past. It did not matter. Her points to Jocelyn about Clary still stood. Clary should have the chance at closure that Maryse and all the other Circle members never got.

…

**Me: look at how smoothly I pretend as if Little Max was always in the story and not at all hastily added since, upon starting this fic, I had no idea of his existence.**

**Thank you for reading! If you have time, please leave a review!**

**Happy Writing!**


	31. Resentment

**Chapter 31**

Jocelyn couldn't go back inside.

This wasn't right. Maryse had had no right to anything she had said. None of this was fair, none of this was supposed to happen. _Why can't anything in my life happen as it should? _Clary- her perfect, perfect, daughter- she now had to endure this, too? On top of everything that had happened last year, this she had to deal with too? When would they get a_ fucking break_?

_What if this is apart of his plan? He gets to Idris, pretending to cooperate, and then lashes out? Kills everyone? Kills Clary?_

Jocelyn had little to no faith in the Clave. The way they were handling this whole situation was _bullshit. _She could understand the logic, and yet the fact of the matter was Jonathan Morgenstern was dangerous. They were taking a huge risk with every passing hour he was in the world free. Something had to be done. Something more than waiting for the Trial in two days.

She wasn't sure when she had decided to start walking, but she had and she was. Walking. Walking down the street. Walking past Taki's. Walking past the Institute. Walking to the lot Maryse had described in her conversation about the situation.

For a moment, Jocelyn just stared at the empty place around her. Then she began reaching forward, feeling around for the door. She found it and grasped the handle tight. She could hear the lock click open. She entered.

Something inside of her was screaming at her to stop. _What will Clary think?_ A little voice warned her. But Jocelyn was beyond listening. All her emotions and thoughts she pushed down, floating above them almost as if she were watching from the outside. _He will not hurt Clary. I will not let him._

She was in a living room, and straight ahead she could see the kitchen. Empty, no one inside. To her right was the stairs. She walked up them.

Hallway. An open bedroom door. She entered.

And there he was.

Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern was standing in the room, looking practically unchanged from the last time Jocelyn saw him. Everything from his pale face and green eyes- he looked dead. He was the ghost of the boy she had held in the Demon Realms, and now he was back, haunting her and her family.

There was no emotion on his face, not a single indication that he felt anything at the sight of her. Just because he didn't have demon blood anymore didn't mean he was capable of feeling. He had no idea what emotions even were.

They stared at each other, the moments stretching out before Jocelyn for what felt like hours. _I could kill him here. I could end this now._

More moments passed before Jocelyn suddenly realized something. This moment- she had lived it out before. When Jonathan was a baby, had she not stared at him exactly like this? Had she not asked herself the same questions she was asking now? _Can I kill him?_ She already knew the answer.

_No_.

She couldn't. She couldn't then and she couldn't now. And just like then, she would have to live with the consequences. The consequences to her, and the consequences to Clary.

But Clary didn't even want him dead. Why? _Because of those stupid memories. Are they real?_

''Clary thinks you've changed,'' Jocelyn said bluntly. Her voice was too loud in the room. Even Jonathan, with his blank stare, flinched. ''She thinks you're…different. And those memories…This Trial- why are you going along with it?''

He stared at her, unmoving, unspeaking. ''Is it some sort of plan?'' Jocelyn demanded. ''Some sort of 'stage 1' for you to take revenge or what not? And this time to have Clary on your side, now that she's remembered such fond times between you both? Is that the grand idea here?'' Still, he continued to stare. ''Well? Answer me!''

Jonathan stared at her. Minutes went by. Still, he stared and stared. And then, he spoke. ''I have no plan.''

His voice was quiet, scratchy and croaky, as if he hadn't used in a long time. ''Really? Then why are you going along with this Trial?''

She watched his chest rise and fall, like he was catching his breath. ''I want redemption.''

Jocelyn laughed bitterly. ''Really? What- it takes death for you to be sorry?''

His breathing became rapid. Anger. He was angry now. ''I did horrible things,'' he admitted. ''Some you know about, some you don't. I hurt many, many people- Max and Clary only a few. I deserve to suffer for those crimes. I have paid, and I will continued to pay for every single sin I committed. I know that. I accept that. But you know what? The only person I never hurt was _you_.''

''You never hurt me?'' Jocelyn repeated incredulously.

''What is the worst thing I did to you? Cut your hair in the Demon Realms?''

''You hurt-''

''I hurt_ Luke_, I hurt_ Clary_\- but I never hurt_ you_.''

''You hurt me everyday! You worked with Valentine! Everything he did you did too!''

''_YOU LEFT ME WITH HIM!'' _Jonathan screamed, so suddenly and with such venom Jocelyn stepped back in fear. ''You want to hate me for the things I did after the Mortal War- hell, the things I did _during_ the Mortal War- go ahead, hate me. I could've made different choices, I couldn't switched sides. But before that? Growing up? _Don't you dare blame me.''_

''I-''

''You weren't there! Growing up with him! It was do or die with Valentine and I chose do! I had to! You weren't there. Getting through the day with him- he was all I had. You of all people should know what living with him was like. Did you think he'd get better when you were gone? You left me with him. You_ left_.''

''I thought you were dead!''

''You knew _he_ wasn't! You could've gone on the off chance that maybe I was alive too. You should've looked! You should've-'' he scoffed, shaking his head. ''Don't- don't you dare blame me. Don't you pin those things on me.''

Jocelyn glared at him. ''I'm supposed to believe that you want redemption?''

''I don't give a _crap _what you believe.'' He was shaking, and through the tears in her own eyes, Jocelyn couldn't tell if he was crying too. ''But you- you do_ not_ get to be my judge.''

Silence stretched out over them. The anger and fear and hurt of all their shared years seemed to hang in the air. Jocelyn wanted to scream. She wanted to scream and cry and hit the world and him and Valentine until she got some sort of compensation. _This was not how my life was supposed to go. This was not how Clary's life was supposed to go. _

Jonathan took a shuddering breath. He made to lean on the bed, but couldn't quite catch himself. He fell to his knees on the floor, and Jocelyn watched as he buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

_It wasn't how your life was supposed to go._

She watched him cry, unable to hear from the ringing of anger in her ears. There was some part inside of her, some small, dusty corner of her heart that was aching looking at him, looking at her injured son, crying. The feeling lasted only a moment before Jocelyn forced it down. She didn't love him. She hated him. She hated him for the things he did- by himself and with Valentine. She hated him and Valentine.

Jocelyn walked out. Back down the stairs. Back through the living room. Back out into the empty lot that mimicked how her heart felt; empty, all save for hatred. Hatred for Jonathan, hatred for Valentine, and hatred for herself. Because she knew Jonathan was right. There was enough blame to go around.

….

Jonathan couldn't breathe. He sat on the floor, his back against the bed and his knees to his chest trying to catch his breath. His heart was pounding. His throat ached as though there were some huge rock in it. He couldn't stop shaking.

Who was he to ask for redemption?

Going to this Trial- it would not redeem him. Being sentenced to death would not redeem him. Spending eternity in Hell would not redeem him. He had chosen his path long ago, with every order he obeyed from Valentine and the actions he took after his death. His cave in Hell he had furnished with his sins, and it was all ready to be inhabited again with his soul upon the Clave's sentencing.

He couldn't be saved. Not because he was incapable of it, but because that ship had sailed long ago. It was too late for him. He was undeserving.

_I'm sorry._ He curled up on himself tighter. He wasn't sure who he was apologizing to. Why did he want redemption anyway? Because he was afraid of Hell? Or because he was actually, genuinely sorry?

_How would I know? What's the difference between an apology and an excuse? Between being sorry for hurting someone and asking for forgiveness because you don't want to feel guilty? Is that why I am doing this? Because I don't want to be guilty? Because I don't want to go back to Hell? _

_Then I don't deserve redemption. I never will._

Jonathan choked for breath. He could hear the Queen's icy laughter as if she were standing in front of him, right now. _Enjoying striving, my love?_

Jonathan closed his eyes, rocking himself back and forth. He was alone. Forever alone. Alone in his room as he would be alone in Hell. He wasn't worthy of anything else.

…

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

**Me: Thank you to all who reviewed last chapter! It really means a lot to me that you are enjoying this story!**

**Happy Writing! **


	32. Arrival

**Chapter 32**

It was early morning. Sunlight was just beginning to slant in through the windows of the apartment. Luke was still staring at the door which Clary had disappeared behind a few moments ago, with only a backward glance and an apologetic look as a goodbye.

Luke's ears pricked at moment down the hall. He knew Jocelyn was awake. She was waiting for Clary to leave. Her letting her go without a goodbye was very uncharacteristic of her, but then again so was letting her go to Idris without her.

Jocelyn had come home rather late last night, and had only spoken to reply to Clary's question that if she wanted to go to Idris, it wasn't like she could stop her. When Clary asked if she and Luke were coming too, Jocelyn had answered for them both. ''No.'' Then she had went to her room without another word, feigning sleep when Luke came in shortly after.

Luke pried his eyes from the door and watched his wife as she went into the kitchen. ''Morning,'' she greeted. She made herself busy with the coffee maker. ''Clary leave?''

She was too calm, trying too hard at aiming for ordinary. ''Yeah,'' Luke answered. He watched her get mugs for them both. ''Jocelyn.''

''Hmm?'' She didn't meet his gaze, but kept making coffee.

Luke sighed. He got up and made his way over to her. He stood watching her for a second before reaching out and grabbing her hands, making her stop. ''You're going to make me spill,'' Jocelyn warned, looking at the measuring cup of grinds she was holding.

''I'll clean it up.'' He took the cup and placed it on the counter. ''Can we please talk about this?''

''About what?'' She removed her hands from his.

''Why are we not in Idris?''

''Why should we be?''

''Don't you want to be there for Clary?''

He could see her stiffen. ''Clary doesn't want me there.''

''You know that's crap.''

''I can't give her what she wants, Luke. I can't pretend I- I feel something I don't.''

Luke looked at her in bewilderment. ''What do you think she wants you to feel?''

Jocelyn held up a hand. ''I don't want to do this, Luke. Please, just drop it.''

''You're making her go through this alone.''

''No, I am not.''

''We should be there with her.''

''I'm not stopping you from going to Idris."

''It's not my son on trial.''

''It's not mine either.''

''Oh, bull.'' Luke shook his head at her. ''You know, maybe it's not so much that Clary wants you to feel a certain way, but more that you won't tell her what it is you _do_ feel.''

He could see the anger in Jocelyn's eyes. ''And what's that?''

''What you told me the day she sprinkled his ashes, when you backed out from going with her at the last minute.'' Her green eyes snapped at him, and Luke knew he hit a nerve. ''You went to Fairchild Manor and you sat there, and you said to me 'I wish someone would tell me it wasn't my fault' and when I did, you said that I didn't know him as a child. You admitted that things could've been different for him.''

''But they weren't,'' she said.

''And that's not your fault.''

''You don't understand.'' She shook her head. ''I've never felt anything for him. Never. Little moments, little pieces of me that told me I should, but never true, true feeling for him. Nothing compared to what I feel for Clary. She cares for him, Luke. Her memories of him make her care about him. And if Maryse was right that this is a chance for her to have closure, then she doesn't need to deal with me and my…_emptiness._''

Luke bit his lip. ''Fine.'' She sighed in relief. ''That makes sense. If it's true.''

''What?''

''If that is your true feeling on this matter,'' he expanded, ''then you are right: you should give Clary space to deal with this alone. But if you are lying to yourself about feeling nothing, then you are hurting both yourself and her. Jonathan is family to both of you. You should deal with it together.''

Anger was still in her face. ''Well, I'm not lying.''

He spread his hands. ''Fine then.''

Jocelyn turned away from him and back to the coffee. She paused a moment before exiting the kitchen. ''Where are you going?''

''To get coffee.'' She walked to the door and slammed it behind her.

Luke watched her go. ''Yeah… You're not lying.''

….

Clary made her way to the lot quickly, clutching her stele in her hands. Since it was her's and Max's trust that had kept Jonathan from being locked away until his Trial, it was their duty to get him to Idris.

_It would be the perfect time to go somewhere else…_

Both Max and Jonathan were already outside. They watched as she approached. ''Hey,'' she greeted, feeling especially happy to see her brother. Because of training, Simon's Ascension, and just the general situation, she hadn't been able to see him in a while. ''You okay…?''

She trailed off, his appearance answering her question for her. He was naturally pale, but there was something about him that just struck her as… off. _Is he…scared?_

Jonathan just gave an easy smile and nodded. He gestured to her stele. _''Shall we get a move on?''_

''Yeah,'' Clary said. She gripped her stele tighter. ''Or, you know, we could maybe…''

Jonathan blinked at her. _''What?''_

''Not?'' Max suggested. ''We could go somewhere else.''

Clary felt a small flicker of hope as Jonathan looked at them both blankly. It died as he shook his head._ ''Honestly, how sad is it that the devil among you is the only one who understands the importance of keeping appointments?''_

''You're not the devil,'' Clary replied.

''_You're right. He doesn't have my smile.'' _Jonathan gave a rather creepy grin for emphasis. _''Now please, let's get a move on.''_

Clary sighed before making the portal. ''Why aren't you speaking?'' Max asked. Clary frowned as she realized he was right. The mind link had become so second nature to her that she hadn't even realized Jonathan was using it.

''_Saving my voice for the Inquisitor,'' _he explained. _''Wouldn't want to waste it on you two peasants.''_

A moment later, Clary had the portal ready. ''Okay,'' she announced. ''One trip to Idris.''

''_Positive?''_

Clary glared at him, though making the portal go somewhere else without his permission had crossed her mind. ''Yes.''

''_Alright then.'' _He inclined his head to Max. _''Children first.''_

Max glared at being called child, but passed Clary and went through first.

Clary watched Max go. Worry and fear raged inside of her as she looked at Jonathan and realized this was it. This was the last time he would be here, in New York, free, before being placed in a cell until Trial. And after that, conviction.

She swallowed hard. She wanted to reach for his hand, hold it like her younger self would do whenever they went on an exploration and had no idea what trouble they were about to get into. But before she could, he clasped his hands behind his back. She noticed something tucked up his sleeve. ''You're bringing your stele?''

''_I have to.'' _

''Oh, that's right.'' They were silent for a minute before he looked at her.

''_Don't worry. I plan on giving it up when I'm done with it.''_

_That's what I'm worried about. _Clary refrained from saying anymore. She bit her lip and gestured to the portal. She watched him walk in, realizing he was quite literally beginning to walk back out of her life again. She would once again be without a brother.

With a deep breath to collect herself, Clary entered the portal.

….

Getting into Idris went quickly and smoothly, as did settling in to the town house they were staying in. Because of this, there was really nothing to distract Jace from waiting for Clary and Max to meet them here after handing Jonathan off. His siblings seemed to feel the same. So while they waited for them, and for Maryse and Magnus and Robert, who had gone to settle some business, they did nothing but sit in silence and try not to bite their fingernails. That is, until Simon showed up.

When this was all over, Simon would be returning with them to live at the New York Institute, so they had all been expecting him. And Jace supposed, in hindsight, they all should've expected what he greeted them with.

''I'M GONE FOR HOW LONG AND THIS HAPPENS?''

''Oh for god's sake I can't do this again,'' Isabelle muttered.

Simon stared at them all with fury. _''What stupid ass decisions lead to this little 'return'?''_

''You know about Clary's memories,'' Jace reminded him.

''Those memories are _crap_. They have to be.''

Alec smiled. ''Good to have you back, Simon.''

Simon was too angry to acknowledge the compliment. ''Clary viewing that bastard as her brother is _absurd._ It's bad, crappy, despicable-''

''Are you seriously going alphabetically?'' Isabelle asked.

''All the way to m.''

''Mortifying,'' Alec supplied.

''And _you_-'' Simon pointed to Jace.

''Why are you singling me out?'' Jace asked.

''You kept it secret for a while, didn't you?''

''Who told you that?''

After saying that, both Isabelle and Jace turned to Alec. Their brother avoided eye contact by inspecting his fingernails. ''It may have come up in conversation,'' he admitted.

''Thanks a lot.''

''How are you people okay with this?'' Simon demanded. ''How are you not furious right now?''

''We are,'' Isabelle assured him. ''It's a tricky situation. Look, what matters is this will all be over soon. We all know what the verdict of this Trial will be.''

''Oh, yeah, cause the Jonathan Morgenstern we fought in Hell was nothing if not a stickler for the justice system!''

''Simon,'' Jace growled. ''_We know_. Trust me, that bastard moves so much as a centimeter out of line, we will be the firsts to skip right to the death penalty.''

''Don't you guys get it?'' Simon gestured around. ''If Jonathan didn't want to be here, he wouldn't be here. So since he _is _here, that means this is apart of his plan.'' He looked at them all. ''Do any of us believe his plan isn't something horrible?''

No one answered him, and Jace knew his siblings shared his opinion. Despite what Clary and Max thought, Jonathan couldn't be here for good purposes.

…

Jonathan had to bite his tongue as the guards put handcuffs on his wrists. He was marched away from Clary and Max and into the building where the cells were, with nothing more than a nod to them. Clary was wringing her hands and Max looked pale. Funny. They were actually worried for him.

The guards weren't rough until they had entered the building, upon which they seemed to take great pleasure in pushing him forward and telling him to hurry up. Jonathan assumed they waited until Clary was out of sight; no need to anger the girl who's runes saved all of the Shadow World.

It was a cold stone hallway he was stopped at. An iron cell door was open and he started through it. ''Hang on,'' one of the guard growled. Jonathan resisted kicking him as he began to search him. His grip tightened on his sleeve. ''What's this?''

''My-'' Jonathan had to force down the panic as he tried to speak. The guard yanked his arm until he procured the stele. Jonathan didn't resist. ''My stele.''

''Planning something, eh?''

He shook his head. ''I need it.''

''Sure you do.'' The guard shoved him forward into the cell. Jonathan bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood.

''You don't understand. I need blood replacement runes.''

''Lilith's not enough anymore?'' The other guard piped in.

Anger began stirring in Jonathan's chest. Between it and the panic and the fact he hadn't used another rune in a while, he was not feeling great. ''If you want me to be able to attend this meeting,'' he hissed through gritted teeth, ''I need a rune.''

The guards scoffed. They slammed the door with a loud clank and began turning away. ''You can put it on me,'' Jonathan called after them. ''I just need one.''

The guard who took his stele turned back then. He leaned in close, peering at Jonathan through the bars. '_'Never,'' _he hissed, ''will I do _anything_ that would help _you_.''

Jonathan kept his gaze hard and unflinching even as the guard raised his stele and snapped in half in front of him. He dropped it on the floor, crushing the remains of it with the heel of his boot. It was only then he turned and disappeared down the hallway.

The other guard hesitated only moment, looking at Jonathan. His mouth was set in a straight line, but he wore shaded glasses, so it was impossible even if he wasn't so bad at faces to know what he was thinking. Jonathan kept his gaze coldly on him until he too walked away, down the same hall his companion went.

Jonathan looked around his cell. His very temporary, cell. Small, with nothing more than a bed. There wasn't even a window. The only light was from the witch lights in the hallway.

_It's not like there will be light in Hell, _he reminded himself. He went and sat on the edge of the bed. He took a breath and ran his hand through his hair. He pushed down the anger and panic that was still stirring in him, and wondered how on earth he was going to get through the Trial tomorrow without a blood replacement rune.

_Doesn't matter. I have to, so I will. _It wasn't like he could ask for a stele from anyone. No one would care. Besides, the pain from no blood replacement runes would be temporary, wouldn't it? This time tomorrow, he would be sentenced. And after that, he would be dead. There would be no pain from lack of blood replacement runes in Hell.

_It'll be worse. _

…

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**Happy Writing! **


	33. The Trial

**Chapter 33**

Clary once again felt like she had a ballon in her chest. A large one, that was only one more breath away from popping and that would blow her heart up with it when it did. She knew who's breath would cause it to pop, and that was the Counsel. One word from Jia would condemn her brother and, consequently, her.

_I can't lose you again. Please don't let me lose you again._

But what else was there to be done? Her reasoning from when she had gone to the Seelie Queen's prison in the first place still stood, despite her memories. What kind of life could he lead? How could he _not_ be condemned?

_Another option. Please, please let there be another option besides death._

Clary wished and prayed in this manner as she, Simon, Isabelle, Max, and Jace followed Maryse through the crowds to the seating area. The Accords Hall was filled with people. The hallways were packed with Shadowhunters, everyone talking eagerly about finally seeing some justice. _I hate you all. Sebastian is dead. Jonathan doesn't have to die. Please, please…_

Because of the crowds, her preoccupation, and her height, Clary kept jostling into people. Most began offering apologies and then cut themselves off when they realized it was her. Maybe it was the look on her face that made them remember that this was her brother and that was why they scurried away from her. One person asked her if she was excited. She was spared answering when Jace pulled her along.

None of these people knew about her memories. None of them knew the truth. She knew it would change nothing it they did, but some part of her wanted to shout. To shout that they couldn't take her brother away again. They just couldn't.

_But I can't._

As they entered the hall, the crowd of people got even thicker, and this time Clary was jostled nearly to the ground. She had to lean against the wall to keep from falling to the floor.

''I am sorry!'' A young man declared, quickly backtracking through the crowd when he realized he had bumped into her. He offered her hand, and Clary took it to straighten up from her awkward position. The sensation of touching his hand made her want to recoil- just the stress of the day, she figured. ''I didn't mean to-''

''It's fine,'' Clary assured him. She looked past him to where her group had disappeared to. ''Really.''

He gave a sheepish grin, though it was hard to tell if it was sincere since for some strange reason he was wearing sun glasses inside. ''If you say so.'' He noticed where she was looking. ''I'll let you get back to your group. Bye, Clary.''

He began walking away when Clary realized something. ''How do you know my name?''

He looked back at her, presumably just staring. ''Who doesn't know your name?'' He laughed. ''The Rune Girl. The clever little artist.''

For some reason, Clary felt fear. There was something tugging at her, some feeling of dread. She watched him walk away, trying to figure out what it was.

''Clary!''

Hearing Jace made Clary snap out of her thoughts. She was just being stupid. There were more important things to worry about right now.

She saw him through the crowd and made her way over. She slid onto the bench and sat down between Jace and Max. ''It's a good thing you're tall.''

''And not a good thing you are so short.'' He flung one of her braids over her shoulder. He slipped his hand into her's, and Clary clung to it tightly. She looked towards the front of the room, where Jonathan would soon stand.

_I can't do this. Oh god, I can't. Please, please._

Next thing she knew, it had begun.

The room finally settled down as first Robert, the Inquisitor, entered, and then Jia, the Counsel. You could have heard a pin drop as then the prisoner was led in.

Clary supposed it was only due to the fact that they were a warrior nation that there were no jeers and curses thrown, thought the tension in the room made clear everyone was longing to do just that. Two guards flanked Jonathan on either side, and they led him to stand with his back to the room, facing both officials.

She saw his face only briefly, and he didn't meet her eyes. His hands were cuffed in front of him, and he looked as pale as a ghost. His green eyes were sharper than glass.

''_Maybe you don't feel,'' 11 year old Clary said, frowning at her brother. ''But your face does.''_

_He blinked at her. ''What does that mean?''_

''_Your eyes always show what you are feeling.''_

''_If I don't feel, how is that possible?''_

''_Maybe you just think you don't.''_

_He scoffed before playfully poking her forehead. ''Don't be stupid.''_

Clary clung to Jace's hand tighter. _I don't want to lose him again._

Jonathan stood there, and for a moment there was silence.

''Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern,'' Jia began. ''The Clave charges you-''

''Oh, cut the crap,'' he muttered.

''Excuse you?''

''I'm guilty,'' he continued. Clary flinched. ''I'm guilty. We all know it. So let's skip this formality.''

Jia bristled. ''This Trial-''

''-Is nothing more than a formality. We all know it. 'Not panic anyone' and what not. We all know the outcome here, so let's just cut to the chase.'' He inclined his head to the crowd behind him. ''I'm sure you are all longing to get back to…whatever it is you people do.''

''You will not dictate the Clave. There are questions to be answered and we will have them answered.''

''About what? Him?'' Jonathan gestured with his cuffed hands to Max. ''You want to know how he brought me back?''

Clary could tell Robert didn't like the direction of this conversation, but Jia went on, ''To start with, yes.''

''Well, he didn't bring me back. I came back of my own accord. The Angels let him out and I hitched a ride.''

''You expect us to believe that you outwitted the Angels?''

''Hey, Heaven gets a lot of foot traffic these days due to idiot warriors trying to die heroically. Security is expensive as…well, as Hell.''

Jia pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. ''According to this letter-''

''-Written by who, exactly?'' Jonathan shrugged. ''Max Lightwood had nothing to do with bringing me back, and if anything, tried to get rid of me by trading me for Heaven's Sword. Not his fault I escaped. I will of course be willing to testify to this under Mortal Sword.''

''You have demon blood,'' Robert said. ''You cannot wield Heaven's weapon.''

Jonathan shrugged. ''I died, remember? 'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust?' Not a demon anymore. I can wield the sword.''

Clary watched with a sickening feeling as Robert and Jia exchanged looks. ''Unless of course,'' Jonathan went on, ''You would like to- as I said at the start- just cut to the chase?'' He blinked at them. ''We all know where you want me.''

Silence descended on the hall again. Jonathan stared without emotion at the officials, until finally Jia nodded. ''Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, the Clave hereby sentences you to death.''

Though no one made a sound, Clary could feel the atmosphere in the room change. Relief, happiness. Max looked like he wanted to protest, but Isabelle grabbed his arm. Clary let go of Jace's hand for fear of cutting off his circulation and began twisting her fingers together.

_This is it. He's gone._

With her ears ringing she watched as Jonathan was led away back to his cell. Jia was declaring details of the execution, but Clary couldn't hear. She could only watch as her brother was vanishing from sight again, his moments on earth now officially numbered.

The Hall became noisy again, this time with cheers and congratulations being passed from person to person. Clary felt hot. She couldn't be here. She couldn't.

She got up from the bench and began walking away, even as Jace called after her. She just wanted to get out, get some fresh air and try and see him one last time before… before…

She couldn't even think it.

Clary had to lean against the wall before reaching the door. She looked around at the rejoicing room, hating them all. She scowled, about to walk out, when one face she noticed wasn't rejoicing. Who wasn't doing anything except looking where Jonathan had been led out.

It was the young man who had knocked into her before. It was the first time Clary noticed his very curly blond hair. He waited a moment and looked around before slipping off in the direction of the Cells.

The feeling of fear rose up in Clary again._ No_. Suddenly, she began to suspect for what reason he hid his eyes.

_It's him._

…

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

**Me: Thank you for reading! And thank you, aubreylovesthegames, for taking the time to review last chapter! It means so much! **

**Happy Writing! **


	34. A Mission From Him

**Chapter 34**

Jonathan barely made it to the bed in his cell. He was terribly lightheaded, and the room seemed to spin. He was relieved to sit down on the edge of the bed, but now had to try and keep his leg from shaking. Or really, his entire body. There was a bitter taste in his mouth. His heart seemed to be skipping a few beats. _At this rate, it won't be their execution that kills me. _

He closed his eyes and leaned forward, trying to calm his racing heart. But footsteps made his ears prick. Who would be coming down here? The guards had only just left.

Jonathan didn't raise his head until he heard the cell door creak open. He made sure to make his face have it's usual vagueness, hiding his pain. He raised an eyebrow as that guard from earlier, the one with the glasses, entered, leaving the door open behind him.

''Well,'' he mused, taking in Jonathan's appearance. ''I guess demon blood is one of those things you can't live with but can't live without, hmm?''

Jonathan inhaled slowly to catch his breath. Part of him wanted to reply with sarcasm, but still there was that pressure in his chest, urging him not to speak. Speaking as he had in the Accords Hall hadn't helped matters. He glared at the guard, trying to force down the feelings of unease and panic.

The guard chuckled at him. ''Serves you right to be sick now, going all those years without so much as a cold. Only injuries you ever got were physical ones.''

Jonathan stared at him. Was he being sarcastic, or did this guy actually know him? He studied him, glaring as suspicion rose up. Fighting down his feelings, he spoke. ''Take off your glasses.''

A cold smile spread over the guard's face as he did so, confirming Jonathan's idea that he wasn't a guard at all.

The glasses came off and there was the young man's face, open to read for anyone who was good at interpreting people's expressions. But maybe even they might have trouble. His face, while now unobscured, had small scars around his eyes and cheeks. And his eyes themselves- well, there was no emotion there. They were white, with no pupil.

Jonathan's mind raced as he thought over why on earth he was here and how he even got into Idris in the first place. ''You.''

''Yes, it's me,'' the man said. ''I just had to come and see you and Clary. You've remembered! That's wonderful! Though,'' he glanced around the cell, his mouth in a frown, ''rather regrettable under such circumstances, I suppose.''

Jonathan's heart was speeding up again, but this time more from the realization if he wanted answers, he had to get them now. And he had to speak. ''Why did you take them?''

''What? Your memories?'' The man shrugged. ''It was so complicated. Not to mention your father was _this_ close to finding out about Clary. What would he have done? Can you imagine? I did you both a favor by separating you. Or maybe, at least Clary. You know, considering this whole situation.''

''Why did it concern you?''

''_You_ concern me.'' He waved a hand, as if this should be obvious. ''God, Jonathan, since _birth _you've concerned me. Everything about you…everything you touch…it all goes away in the end. I didn't want our little artist to end up the same way. Clary is too special for that.''

''You want her powers?''

''I want her powers _in the world_. Do you know how special she is? How special she got with your training? God, Clary Morgenstern is-'' he trailed off, shaking his head. ''She's something else. I had to save her for future ideas. Ideas that are now beginning to turn, I might add.''

''If you touch her I-''

''Will what? Have your ghost haunt me?'' He scoffed. ''Some speech you made there in the Hall. Sped everything up. Now this will get complicated.''

''What will?''

''See, Jon-''

''Don't call me Jon.''

''_Jonny,''_ He continued over him, ''I can't let you die yet. I need you for something. Something very specific.''

''Too bad.''

''Yes, it is too bad.'' He frowned at Jonathan, but Jonathan had the suspicion it conveyed an emotion other than unhappiness. Perhaps the opposite. ''Because if you don't- well, it will be bad for you.''

''Fascinating.''

''If you don't do what I want,'' he went on, ''I won't let you die.''

Jonathan's mouth twitched. ''You'll be disappointing many Shadowhunters out there.''

The man studied him for a second before leaning forward. ''You know,'' he began in a whisper, ''when Adam and Eve were thrown out of the garden, it wasn't because God stopped loving them. It was because he couldn't be around them anymore. They had sinned, and so they couldn't be around God's goodness.'' He gestured with his hands, ''_Clary_ has that goodness in her, that angelic nature. That was what made you and her like magnets when you first met- opposites attracting, ying and yang. And because of that goodness, she can't be around such _evil_.''

His white eyes glimmered as he continued. ''How much convincing would it take, do you think, for her to admit what everyone it telling her is true? That you can't change. That you are still as bad as you had been. If you don't work for me, Jonathan, I will take everything Clary loves and destroy it. And I will pin it on _you_.''

Jonathan clenched his fists and kept his eyes narrow. ''So?''

''A non feeling demon like you can't imagine the pain I can cause. Clary loves so much and so hard- how many pieces can I break her into? How much anguish can I cause her? How deep would it cut do you think, for her to be betrayed by her brother _again_, perhaps to lose someone to him?'' Now he looked thoughtful. ''Hmm, who should she lose? Jace? Or maybe one of her parents?''

Jonathan bit his tongue. He knew this person. He knew exactly what he was capable of. And so far, he had not exaggerating his ability one bit. ''What do you want?''

''Did you think a sword was the _only _object that fell from Heaven? There was another. An artifact, very precious. Legend states that any who posse this object is blessed by the Angels, and is granted their deepest desire.

''I doubt it's true.

''As do I. But the Clave is far too superstitious to believe otherwise. So you will fetch it for me, and I will present it to the Clave, where they will be forced to grant me my wish.''

''Which is?''

He smiled. ''The return of my status and property.''

Jonathan shrugged. ''If you proved who you were, you could probably just ask and they would give it to you.''

''No. I will be looked at just as you are; Always in association with Valentine.''

''Clary and Jace are associated with Valentine.''

''They're not running around calling themselves Morgensterns, are they?'' He shook his head. ''I don't belong, Jonathan, none of us do. You, me, Celeste- we are victims. But no one will acknowledge the things done_ to _us, only the things we ourselves _have _done. Perhaps that's best in some ways, but in this case- this is what I must do. And you must help me. Because of your father, I lost mine. And because of you, I lost my name. I want my property back. And if you don't help me- I will ruin you just as you ruined me.''

Jonathan glared. ''Valentine did a lot of crappy things and I helped, but you- I didn't even know you were still alive for years.''

''But Valentine is dead.'' He stepped closer to Jonathan and leaned over him, smiling wide at him. His white eyes didn't focus on him, and Jonathan pondered not for the first time just how much vision he had. ''And what are sons if not perfect vessels to carry on the hatred we have for the past?''

Still smiling, he straightened up and pulled a stele from his belt. He laid it next to Jonathan. ''I trust your skill. You know what to do. And remember, if you don't-'' he trailed off, shrugging and turning away.

Jonathan watched him go. He grasped the stele. ''What?''

He paused in the doorway. ''New York,'' he mused. ''So far away, and with no cell phones, well, Clary won't get any bad news until long after the fact.'' He looked back over his shoulder at Jonathan. ''But I doubt you care much for _her_, do you?''

Jonathan dug his nails into his palm as his intention of the first victim became clear. ''Don't you dare.''

''Don't make me.'' He continued on his way out. ''I hope you hurry! I would really like to paint Wayland Manor before the summer.''

The cell door closed behind him, but did not click back into place. Jonathan fought down the fear and panic. If he didn't do this, Clary would suffer. But if he left now, what would she think?

_Doesn't matter. What matters is she doesn't get hurt._

Jonathan inhaled sharply. Then he drew a blood replacement rune on his arm. He had been given a mission, that was what it was at the end of the day. A mission by a boy who in another universe should've grown up and been his friend. Who had been his friend until Valentine killed his father and took his name to give to himself and Jace.

Jonathan- now called Michael- Wayland wanted his status back. No matter what he had to do to get it.

…

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

**Me: I hope you enjoyed! So excited to be starting this plot point! Thank you, OliviaWhite55, for reviewing last chapter! It means a lot! **

**Happy Writing! **


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